Letters to Juliet
by Leia's diary
Summary: This about the reencounter of Candy and Terry inspired by the novel "A final story" written by Kyoko Mizuki... Please forgive my poor english. This is not my mother language...
1. Chapter 1

Letters to Juliet

Main street of La Porte, Indiana

Chapter 1

Lights switched off and Miss Pony appeared at the doorstep of the house, holding between her hands a huge strawberry cake overflowing with cream, upon which burned 26 candles. Present family and relatives started singing the famous suited song :

_Happy birthday to you_

_Happy birthday to you  
Happy birthday to you, dear Candy  
Happy birthday to you_

_From good friends and true,  
From old friends and new,  
May good luck go with you,  
And happiness too._

The old lady put the dish on the big table in front of Candy who was greedily watching her dessert. The candles' flames were dancing in front of her pretty face, lighting it with a twany and blue shaded light which emphasized the sparkle of her eyes.

Go on ! Blow them all out ! – said one of the orphenage's resident, eager to find a piece of cake in his plate.

The young lady stood up with a smile. She pointed to Annie to accompany her in her task. Hadn't they been found on the same day on Pony's home's doorstep ? It had been then decided that their discovery's date would be their birthday's date, date that Candy had kept while Annie's parents chosed to change it after her adoption, putting it back six months in order to determine more specifically her age, and certainly to differentiate her from her sister of heart. Since then, Annie used to celebrate her birthday in november, but kept on celebrating innerly the same day as Candy. Without any hesitation, she joined her girlfriend to the top of the table. Bending over the cake, leaning on their hands, they both took a deep breath and complied, discreetly helped by the children who surrounded them. The candles got lighted off in a few seconds under everybody's applauses. A light cloud of still warm wax flied in front of them, displaying a smell that Candy liked particularly well and which evoked her of serene times : christmas evenings, Sister Lane's candles in the chapel, the private lighting during a bath, and birthday candles of course…

Electrical lanterns got swtiched on again and the guinguette's atmosphere that had come along the meal rekindled. The weather was very fine on that evening of Wednesday 7th of march 1924, so good that it had been decided to eat in the garden. Anthony's rosewoods that Candy had made planted all around, few years before, exhaled their delicate scent, dispersed by a light breeze which was having fun to squeeze between the guests. Invisible in the grass, crickets could be heard singing which suggested to a future blistering summer.

Candy had been living at Pony's home for several years now. Doctor Martin whom she had worked with in Chicago, had opened a clinic in La Porte, a little town of 20.000 souls, located at few miles from the orphenage. After the ending of extension's works which were financed by Albert, the number of children had increased and as a result, the little sick ones too. Seeing Miss pony and Sister Lane having problems to look after all this little world, the idea to offer to Doctor Martin to settle in the area crossed her mind. Without any regret, she left her job as a nurse in Chicago for the one of Dr Martin's assistant at La Porte. The rural everyday life had quickly won back over her city habits. Annie always wondered how she could do so easily without the town's excitement, its noises, its crowd, its buildings which brushed the sky, its fashion boutiques and its delicious restaurants. Candy answered her that she liked the city, but the country peace suited her better, because she felt more comfortable and because it was the only way for her to regenerate. She knew it supposed the sacrifice to live far from some people she loved, but that night, she had been feeling fullfilled for the first time for many years. She had been able to reunite around her for her birthday every people dear to her heart : Annie and Archibald, even Patty who came specially for that happy day. As a litterature teacher iin one of the poshest schools of New-York, she was not able to be absent too long. Easter holidays fell the right time that year, on Candy's birthday. The opportunity was too beautiful for not taking it, as much as the surprise she would make to her friend when she would see her arriving at Pony's.

Candy glowed with happiness. Having her friends reunited at the orphenage meant a lot to her. It was the time when, while she was engaged in cutting and handing out some cake's slices, Sister Lane came back from inside, holding a basket full of multicolored papers and boxes. The young lady waited for everybody to get served and began to open her gifts. She started with the children's presents : drawings, little clay sculptures, necklaces, flowers bracelets, a mass of pretty and touching things that she will later very store away preciously. She thanked every one, squeezing their little faces between her hands, and covered them with noisy kisses. Then she opened the last gift but one which was waiting in the bottom of the basket. It was a Violet of Toulouse parfume, a nectar made in the said pink-bricked town from southwestern France. A little tender word from Miss Pony and Sister Lane accompanied it. Candy was extremly pleased by that gesture but could not prevent herself from scolding them for such an expensive spending. Moved, she opened the bottle and the fresh scent of flowers took possession of her nostrils, a subtle and sophisticated scent which bewitched her immediatly. With her finger's top, she collected few drops from it then closed back the bottle and with caution, put it in its box.

One last gift still remained. It was a medium-sized envelope but with a certain thickness. Intrigued, she teared up one of the envelope's sides and pulled a series of documents from it : a first-class booking on the ship Le France from New-York to Le Havre in the date of the 1st of july, then a train ticket on the Orient-Express towards Venice, Italy. She lifted astonished eyes to her friends who were looking at her with a very satisfied expression.

But what is that ?... But it is too much !... Oh well… I… - she mumbled.

We thought that a little stay in Italy would be good to you. – speaked Albert with his warm and reassuring voice.

But I can't !... – followed Candy, shaking her head – I can't leave the clinic that way, they need me !

You don't have to worry at all. I made an arrangement with Doctor Martin, and he gave you a month of vacation.

A month ?

You will really need that if you want to make the most of the surroundings. Reaching to destination will already take more than two days !... – answered Albert, laughing.

He expected that negative reaction from his young charge, this is why he had planned everything to neutralize the least of her dodgings. However, he had voluntarly avoided to tell her that his decision to send her far from La Porte came from the gloomy expression she had been displaying for months. This generated concern among her relatives. Few weeks ago, on a sunday afternoon, while he came and visited Annie in her sumptuous holiday home located half-way from La Porte and Pony's, she confided in him about that topic.

I though Candy would be there… - he said as he graciously accepted the cup of tea the young Cornwell was offering him.

She was indeed supposed to … - she answered, shighing and sitting in front of him in a comfortable dark-leathered armchair – But she called off at the last time under the pretext of an urgent work to do.

She patently takes her job seriously, it is worthy of praise but…

But killing herself at work won't help her to chase the dark thoughs which haunt her mind – she interrupted him, looking for his approval in his gaze.

The latter put back his cup of tea on the coffee table in front of him, and looked straigh in the eyes at his young hostess.

I think that we both totally agree about Candy… And about the source of her torments…

Annie lifted herself, her hand to her heart.

Oh, Albert ! I feel so much relieved to know that ! I've so often tried to talk about that with Archie, but he becomes uncontrollable when it's about… about Terry ! You see, even in front of you, I've troubles to tell his name since this topic became so sensitive. Candy did not help me either. All along those years, I've seen her showing a joie de vivre that I found extreme so many times, a joy which hid a misery that she herself refused to imagine. I do not count the number of gentlemen who got introduced to her and got snubed. I had yet big hope with that young doctor who succeeded in extracting from her a third rendez-vous, but he confessed to me later that he had given up fighting against a ghost, a ghost whose identity he ignored but whose invading presence revealed to him the impossibility to build something with her. I thought that with Suzanna's death, she could see life with more optimism. I thought she would run to Terry. Instead of this, she settled for welcoming the news with a strange indifference. She did not say anything about him but hurried up to feel sorry for that girl who broke their life. There are times when I can't understand her ! She finds excuses to anybody, even to her best ennemies !

Candy's indulgence, instead of being a quality, can indeed turns out to be her biggest fault – said Albert, laughing, entertaininh himself with the discovery of an unknown facet of his interlocutor. The indignation colored her cheeks and intensified the tone of her voice, so usually neutral. Did she ever got angry ? Candy's state visibly spread revolt in her heart, and the Andrey's heird got innerly satisfied. It was good to know that his adoptive daughter could rely on a faithful friend.

All those years at keeping her sorrow silent – followed the latter – at refusing that coming happiness, like a widow who lost enjoying life. All those years entirely devoted to her work, her patients, like if they were the only ones who deserved being cared. I suspect her of being convinced that she is not worthy for happiness, that she can't be allowed to this kind of condition.

Who could reproach her to beleive this ? Every people she loved got carried off from her… This does not encourage self-esteem…

She's so combative for the others though ! Why isn't she the same towards herself ?

Quite simply because, as we've just mentionned it, she does not want to suffer anymore. Making a move to Terry would mean taking the risk to be disappointed once again…

What about him then ? Why didn't he write to her yet after all this time ? More than a year has elapsed since Suzanna's death, oh damn ! A little more every day, I can see Candy sinking into morosity and I keep on thinking it is because of him. I think she kept the inner hope that he would contact her and that his silence is finishing her off piece by piece.

Unfortunatly, I fear he will never give her any sign of living. Those two beings are so similar : one is convinced to jinx while the other one thinks that she does not deserve being happy. Even though a boulevard would open in front of them, they would not take a step towards each other…

What can we do then ? – she asked with a tremolo, her eyes clouding over with tears – Are we going to stay that way without doing anything and leaving her unhappy all her life ?

Certainly not, my friend ! – said Albert as he streched out his legs with an half-smile sketching on his lips – I beleive it is time to take action for our little Candy's good.

We've indeed lost too much of it ! she exclaimed, hopping in her armchair, her hands joined with contentment – How to go about acting and behaving ?

I must confess to you that I've been already thinking about it for a while and I've a hunk about it. Though I still have to check some details, I still have a surprise in store for her…

Both of us won't be too much for this. I'm eager to begin !

I bet that Patty would not say no to this initiative, don't you think ? Doesn't she live in New-York ? – he asked, a hint of irony in his voice. Without waiting him to end his sentance, Annie rushed to the telephone and dialed her girlfriend's number…

Candy was caustiously looking at her tickets. Going back to Europe, after all those years, seemed to her incungruous and inappropriate. People needed her more here rather than sending her for rides in unknown places.

I'm sorry but I can't accept !... – she persisted in her stubornness.

I think it's too late to refuse – said Patty getting closer, her eyes laughing under her thick glasses – because I've also booked my tickets for this trip ! You can't walk me out on, can you ?

You… You mean that we are going to travel together ?

Yes !... I've always dreamed to visit Italy and I.. We thought that you would be a very good companion.

It looks like a real conspiracy ! – joked Candy, still dazed by what she was offered to.

It's indeed a real plot which we've happily participated to ! – said Annie, affectionatley taking her hand – It will do you the greatest good to discover new scenes…

- But Miss Pony, Sister Lane, are you sure that… ? – she asked turning towards her dear teachers.

If Ihave to, I will make you get up into that train for New-York ! – the religious woman interrupted her – Stop worrying for us or for the clinic. We got organized accordingly.

But…

That's enough ! You can be so stuborn sometimes ! – said the nun visibly irritated – I don't want to hear anymore any « but » or any additional thing ! You will leave for Europe and you will send us nice postcards from there !

The severe tone used by the sister nipped in the bud the young nurse's last dodging attempts. She shrugged off, harms stretched and palms turned to the sky as a sign of capitulation.

Ok… But they might arrive before my come-back ! – she chuckled – Nevertheless, I promise you to send you some from all over the map !

You are finally taking a good decision ! – Sister Lane cried out, sighing with pleasure – I feel so happy for you my child ! You're so lucky to make such a beautiful trip !

I do agree with you. I'm very lucky to have such generous friends. I'm also delighted to know that Patty will accompany me – she answered, nodding.

Then she turned to Annie :

What about you, Annie ? Do you feel like going to Italy ? Why don't you come with us ?

To tell you the truth… - the latter mumbled, exchanging a gaze of complicity with her husband – It was planned in the beginning.. Until…

Until we learnt that we were going to be parents ! – Archie proudly interrupted her, thrusting out his chest and tenderly caressing his wife's shoulder.

A baby ? – Candy exclaimed, stupefied – You are going to have a baby ?

Yes indeed ! – said Annie, blushing, immediatly putting a tender hand on her lightly rounded belly – I've been being pregnant for four months, and as you imagine, I cannot take the risk to leave so far away…

Never mind ! Oh, Annie ! A baby ! You are going to have a baby ! – the young blond did not cease saying – I'm going to be an auntie !

What a wonderful news ! – both Sister Lane and Miss Pony cried out, tear-filled.

Please, make haste to sit down ! You musn't get tired ! – the old lady added, rushing to move a chair closer to her.

Oh, this is not an illness ! – laughed Annie – I think I've never felt so well. This is why I can tell you, my dear Candy, that I wil have enough strengh to take you with me to do shopping. You really need to change your wardrobe ! A lady with your condition cannot leave with as all luggage, a denim overalls and a ten years old dress ! European women are so elegant that you might get turned back at the frontier !

Indeed ! I've forgotten the day when we were able to admire Candy wearing suit other than a nursing blouse or a trousers – Archie added, teasing.

It must have been on our wedding day, my love… There was no other way, she was my maid of honor !

The body of guests bursted out laughing. Albert placed a compassionate hand on his adoptive daughter's shoulder. The former wanderer who used to sleep out with the company of animals could easily understand the little energy she showed to this kind of futilities. What would have shed one with pretty dresses at the orphenage or at the clinic, which would have been durtied or damaged ? How would have she been able to work in good conditions, wearing a hat and heels ? People were really forgetting reason when the matter was about setting up priorities. She nonetheless accepted that evolving in the high society implied the application of some dress codes that she was able to avoid in her remote countryside. Didn't Albert follow those rules by obligation ? She could not prevent herself from admitting that this linnen suit suited him wonderfully and that it was further from her mind to reproach him to have taken off his adventurer's threadbare jacket. Defeated, she speaked to her friends, pretending some vexation :

No more mockings, please ! – she did, waving a white napkin to show her surrender – I got it. That's ok. I will come to town with you Annie and you'll play dolls on me.

I can't wait ! – her girlfriend exclaimed, drawing her hands against her heart, hopping like a little bird – What do you think about going to Chicago this week-end ? I know a boutique which just received the latest creations from France : Mariano Fortuny, Paul Poiret, Chanel... Some real wonders !

Well, you are not wasting your time ! – laughed Candy, entertained by her girlfriend's enthusiasm – If you promise me that I'll be back here Monday, I will agree to make that effort…

You won't regret it ! Our chauffeur will come and pick you up Friday in the end of the afternoon. Be ready !

Yes sir ! – said Candy, clicking her heels, raising her hand to her forehead with a military salute. Then turning to the table, unable to hold the gurgles of her belly :

Before everything, do you allow me to taste this delicious cake which has been flirting with me for a while ?

So be it ! – nodded Annie with a smile – But no more than a slice. I would not want us to be obliged to make some alterations on your clothes in a near future.

Candy shrugged off, bursting out, and gluttonously gobbled up a piece of cake. The emotions of the night did not have visibly taken her appetite away, so much so that the incurable greedy one managed to hide one more piece in her napkin, in anticipation of a late-night snack… Out of the corner of her eye, Patty noticed her little game, and enjoyed it innerly. Those holidays with Candy looked to be special, on one hand because of her girlfriend's personality, but also because of the surprise intented to her…

Patty took a glance at her alarm-clock, slightly enlighted by the moon rays which broke through the thick bedroom's curtains. She was able to distinguish the late-night hour and sighed, upset. She had been trying to sleep for two hours without any success. But how could she fall asleep in those conditions, with Candy sleeping in a bed next to hers, while knowing what she was hiding to her since her arrival ? She could hear her peaceful breath and she wondered, for the hundredth time, if she should take the risk to tell her what she knew. As quietly as possible, she pulled the drawer of her night-table and checked if what its content was still there, then pulled it back very slowly. Being unable to stay in bed anymore, she decided to get up and to go to the kitchen to prepare herself a cup of tea. Silently, she crossed the bedroom, walked along the long corridor which separated the bedrooms and the dormitory from the living-rooms, and pushed the kitchen's door. Though the leftovers had been put in a safe place, there was still a good smell of the birthday's meal. Patty understood now why Candy used to have such good appetite. The food was so good at Pony's ! It made differences with the dinning hall of the very poshed Nightingale-Bamford School, located in the Upper East Side, a fancy neighborhood of Manhattan, in which she teached to young ladies from very good backgrounds. She was not a very good cordon bleu either. Every night, when coming back in her small appartment, she regretted it. Until one year back, it was her dear grandmother who used to cook nice little meals for her, but since her death, the content of her plates was reduced to a very limited choice of preserved cans. She began to think that it would be time for her to start learning some culinary rudiments if she did not want to starve. The loss of her grandmother had particularly unsettled her, and one more time fragilized her. She used to represent the only and unique emotional support which ahd allowed her to keep afloat after Alistair's death. She had been her fixing-point which had prevented her from drifting away. She could not expect anything from her parents who never showed any interest to her. She did not even know where they lived exactly. This is why she had great hope for this journey in Europe with Candy. Who else, after all what she had to pass through, could understand better the inner upset which was driving her on, her doubts and fears, this infinite sadness without any break ? She was feeling the keen desire to take charge of herself and turn a new page of her life. What about her girlfriend ? What will happen when she shares with her what she knows ?

Plunged into her thoughts, only disturbed by the pendullum of the Franche-Comté clock which regulated the seconds with a regular cadence, she poured the almost simmering water in the teapot and added some coffee cups of tea leaves, and waited a few minuts until the infusion takes place. After a while, she filled a mug with the burning beverage and came near the window, holding her cup. The almost full moon recovered the gardin with a bluish paleness which gave to it an atmosphere of fantasy stories. In front of the fireplace , she saw a blanket on Miss Pony's rocking chair and took it. Outside, the air was fresh but bearable. Swaddled in her blanket, her hands heated by the cup of tea, she laid down on one of the garden's deckchairs and lifted her eyes towards the dark sky spangled wit stars. She sighed once again in an attempt to remove the oppressing feeling which gnawed at her since her arrival, and began to recall the reasons which got her in such permanent anguish state…

When few weeks before, Annie and Albert called her to tell her about the mission they wanted to entrust her, she did not imagine the difficulties in which she would find herself. As a matter of course, the thinking to participate in the plan to reunite Candy and the man she loved enchanted her, but she was far from suspecting the responsability that lied to her. On the fly, she had only seen Candy's happiness, but now, since she was with her, observing her in her little universe inside which she had built an impassable fortress, she wondered if she had made the right decision.

She could still see herself, taking her most beautiful pen and writing a letter to Terry, which content remained indelibly imprinted in her memory because of the so many drafts she had made before sending to him the good one, in spite of her incertitudes, and the fear that he could throw it away. After many rough works covering the ground, she chosed to get to the heart of the matter. Knowing the pigheaded blowhard he could be, she suspected that her prose would not capture his attention but the message she wanted to pass on :

« _Terrence Graham Grandchester,__  
__Stratford theatre company__,_

_10 West 45th St. Broadway  
New York_

_New-York, March 12th 1924,_

_Dear Terry,_

_That must be a big surprise for you to read that letter from me. I've to confess that it is a surprise for me too but I've been thinking about writing to you for a while. Since you've lately ended your tour and since you are in New-York presently, I'm taking the opportunity to ask you something both personal and professional, which, I hope, you will agree to._

_I've been teaching for several years English Literature at the Nightingale-Bamford School, and on the occasion of the program about the british great authors, I took to heart to make better known Shakespeare's works to my young pupils. The task is rather arduous on this difficult age in which literature classics put them off rather than seduce them. This is why I thought that the great shakesperian actor that you are could help me in that art to win those young ladies over to bring them back towards more vertuous paths. I've no doubt about your talent neither your charm, neither your capacity to bring to light the riches of this writor. You are the only one able to perform this feat. Yet, You were able to captivate the whole audience in Saint-Paul, that will be for you easy as pie in front of those naive young girls._

_No need to say that I rely upon you for this thorny case._

_In rememberance of the good old days, Terry…_

_Yours truly,_

_Patty_

_Patricia O'Brien_

_English Literature Department_

_Nightingale-Bamford School_

_20 East 92nd Street  
New York, NY 10128_ »

Praying Heaven over being persuasive, she had mailed the letter the same day and waited without any conviction for a sign from the rebelious aristocrat. Two weeks elapsed without any missive form him, such that she came to the point that she had failed, when during an afternoon, while she was on duty at her office, a phone call almost made her chocke and paralyzed her whole body. A familiar voice sniggered at the other end of the line, a voice that she had heard since years, a voice that had gained maturity and seriousness but she could recognize it without any ambiguity.

So, Four-eyes, it seems that you need my help ?

End of chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

At the very moment when Patty pushed the door of the Nightingale-Bamford School principal's office, a shiver of dread ran down her spine. In spite of the years, she had innerly stayed the young schoolgirl terrorised in front of Terry. The teases she had to suffer from him were still anchored in her mind. The phone exchanges they had had each other during those last weeks had confirmed her fears. He had kept the same : arrogant, sarcastic and mocking, with this incorrigible need to speak to her with nicknames as stupid as they were vexing. She always wondered about the power of attraction he had over Candy, power that she could not stand at all ! Several times, he had let her down at the last time. He had been so little willing to cooperate that she had been about to abandon her project. She had the feeling that he wanted to make her pay for the absurd idea she had to rake up the past, and he really knew how to be tactful ! Finally, they had reached an agreement on a very specific date, around the end of April. That day, while the hours added up and three o'clock was about to ring, her stomach ranked by anguish, not that she feared he misses the appointment, but in the contrary, by fear he could be well and truly there. The responsability that resulted weighted on her shoulders like an heavy burden. She feared more than anything to fail in the task she had been assigned to. She hoped being able to get through her pathological shyness and her lack of confidence. She had suceeded in making him move to the school, but the hardest thing was yet to do…

She took a deep breath and entered the room. Stephen Wragg, the principal, stood up as he saw her, circled his desk and came to her.

Aaaah, dear Patricia, here you are ! Let me introduce you to Mister Graham whom you've talked several times with…

In front of her, the back of a big armchair started to move, and a tall and thin figure emerged from it. Terry was standing in front of her, his steel gaze piercing through his brown locks which had been slightly cut. Dressed in an elegant dark suit, he held out his hand to her with a contemptuous smile.

Miss O'Brien, pleased to see you again…

Patty, turning to jelly, answered with a flaccid hand. She had to pull herself together at any price ! That time, ignoring the emotion that pinked her cheeks, she faced the enemy, with a firmer voice.

Mister Graham, pleasure is reciprocated…

You… You both know each other ? – asked the principal, surprised.

We used to be in the same high school in England – answered Terry, enjoying the trouble he could see arousing in Patty.

Indeed. we used to have some mutual friends… - she added with an unexpected malice.

Hurt by the hint, Terry's contemptuous smile vanished and left place to interrogation. Patty wanted visibly something else from him. What he suspected since the beginning was about to be borne out and he would not be slow to know it, should he have to snatch it from her !

You're such a secretive, Miss O'Brien ! – the principal tittered – You never told me that you were friend with Mister Graham ! I better understand now why you could so easily convince him to participate in our little debate on Shakespeare.

Easily ? Easier said ! – thought innerly Patty, thinking about the patience she had to show for not cracking up. Then turning to Terry, she said :

Mister Graham immediatly accepted our invitation and I'm very grateful to him for this. What should not he have done for a former high school friend who he always tried to stay in touch with…

Understanding the innuendo's perfidy, the young man darkly gazed at the young teacher, squeezing so strongly the back of his seat that his fingers' joints were losing all color.

Let me thank you again for this ! said the principal, rubbing his hands with satisfaction – This is good to see that great actors still get pleasure in sharing their passion with the mere mortlas we are.

You're welcome – answered Terry with false modesty - Patricia asked for it so kindly that I could not refuse…

Patty rolled her eyes, shighing. He definitely grated her on ! What could Candy find into that maddening character ? She could recall the memorable arguments they shared each other and still wondered how they could have been able to fall in love with each other after this. She remembered then that the bangging of her forehead and Alistair's followed by the loss of their eyeglasses were enough to have them pierced by Cupid's darts. Is love as simple as this ?... She remembered too the indulgence the clumsy inventor felt about Terry and the words he said regarding him while Archie was spitting out on him :

He deserves to be better known… He is not the one we think he is…

Patty shooked discretly her head to make flee the tears which lined her autumn colored eyes, and thought that if her Alistair was able to such understanding, she could make a little effort too. Finally, under the pretext of time elapsing, she put an end to the heavy embient atmosphere.

Are you ready, Terry, to jump into the lions' den ?

More than ever, dear !

So, please !... – said Stephen Wragg as he opened the door – After you.

All three of them longed in silence the long forbidding corridor that led us to the auditorium. The noise of their steps were the only noise that resounded on the terra cotta tiled ground. The young actor realized that it was the first time he walked in an academy since Saint-Paul, almost ten years before. Patty was walking near him without saying any word. He had the feeling of suddenly being plunged into a past which was not as far as it could be. Noises, smells began to resurface. As they were passing, a door opened next to them. He started, beleiving it was the mother superior who appeared suddenly. It was just the old school accountant, in charge of the books, who nodded to them without really looking at them.

Everything is allright ? – asked Patty, noticing his confusion.

Yes, yes… - he weakly answered.

The young woman follwed her path close to him, a little smile on her lips. Finally, the fortress was surrending…

At last, they reached their destination. The wide-opened auditorium's doors displayed a large-bodied room. There were tens of velvet-purple seats rows, separated by two staircases which both led to the stage on which were waiting two comfortable armchairs facing the audience. As soon as he stepped into the room, shouts, applauses, wistles came from all sides. The room was full of schoolgirls in uniform, but also of older people, certainly teachers and school staff. Everybody wanted to see the great actor Terrence Graham (Grandchester for the best-informed ones). Though little used to jitters when meeting his admirers, an uncontrollable awe-stricken feeling gripped him and paralyzed him. Candy, through that hord of young girls dressed in blue collar and white blouse, seemed to appear from everywhere. She, whose name he had bansihed but whose memory arouse under the least pretext. No matter his efforts, everything and nothing could remind him of her. And at this moment, he thought that emotion had changed him into a pillar of salt. Patty's harm around his withdrew him from his dark thoughts and he looked at her with gratitude.

Come, Shakespeare is getting impatient… - she said looking back at him with serenity – Everything will be allright.

Terry obediently let her lead him to the stage. Patty stood next to him and applauded him, cheered by the assistance's applauses he was nodding at. Little by little, his heart calmed down. The bright lighting that covered the stage prevented him from seing clearly the people in front of him and he felt better. Taking back control on himself, he did his best to focus on the reason of his coming here : Shakespeare… Then he took a plunge ! During more than two hours he spoke his way about that author of genius, dwelling upon the modernity of his style, upon the themes, the treasures of his works, upon his influence to theatre and literature. Using examples, sometimes playing some extracts of theatre pieces, naming some anecdotes, his eloquence grew in the rhythm of time elapsing. Related by Terry, Shakespeare became a game, an entertainment, a fictional character instead of a boring classic author. Everybody listened to him carrefully. Plunged into his tale, his svelte figure to and fro pacing the stage, the position of his head went back straigth, his from the beginning dull green eyes shined with a new sparkle, his deep voice cheered up, his gestures freed themselves with grace. The real Terrence, Candy's Terry was emerging to a whole granted audience and a troubled Patty. She could understand now what has seduced her tomboyish girlfriend. Under his big arrogant manners, he could to show her a being at her scale, who hid a sensitive soul through his jokes and teases, a weakness which could make him more charming. Candy was of that calibre. She had been able to see over appearences, to see before anybody else the part of light who was inside him, and the passion which lived in him. When he finally ended, Patty was the first one to stand up and to applaude him. She thought about throwing herself into his harms to thank him for the wonderful moment he had just made them live but thought better of it, blushing. There was one thing for sure : Libraries were going to be weighted down by Shakespeare books' orders, and Terrence Graham's theatre performances will go on playing sold out.

After a while, when the applauses became less frequent, the young teacher invited him to sit in an armchair behind him as she sitted next to him. He crossed his long legs and took a comfortable position, his arms laying on the arm-rests.

Dear Terrence, before we leave each other, we would like you to participate in a little test that we usually give to our guests.

Very well, as long as you don't ask me private questions… - he tittered, a touch nervous.

Patty's face remained unblinking.

This is the Proust questionnaire adapted by our pupils. It changes sometimes according to our guests. But before all, let's pull together about something. If you accept that test you won't be able to forswear anymore. You'll have to answer to all the questions you'll be asked to.

As I just told you, as long as you don't go too far…

Is it a yes or a no ?!

He hesitated a second then answered :

- It is a yes !

The stage's lighting changed and Terry was now able distinguish the audience in front of him. A lump of anguish started again to spring in his stomach. A young pupil at the first row got up, and with a shaking hand, began to read a piece of paper.

Mister Graham, could you tell us what is your personality feature ?

Impulsiveness.

Your favourite quality in a man ? – followed another one.

His vulnerability.

And in a woman ?

Her strong personality.

The quality you like the most in your friends ? – asked another one.

I don't have any friends…

A murmure of confusion moved the attendance then the questionnaire went on as if nothing were wrong, passing around among young girls.

Your main default ?

Unable to say no when necessary…

Your hobbie ?

Play !

Your dream of happiness ?

It's just a dream unfortunatly…

What would be your greatest misfortune ?

It already happened…

What you would like to be ?

Free in my mind…

Your favorite color ?

Emerald green

The flower you like ?

The daffodil

Your favourite author ?

You still dare to ask that ? – he said, bursting out laughing.

Your favourite poet ?

Arthur Rimbaud

The gift you would like to have ?

Being able to turn back the clock…

The mistakes that inspire you the most indulgence ?

The others' ones…

How would you like to die ?

In her ar… Listen, I think I've enough answered to your questions, right ? – he cried out, visibly upset. That questionnaire turned inquisitory.

I've one left ! – said a little voice from the third row.

If you promise me that it will really be the last one… - said Terry, searching for his interlocutor.

I wanted to know if you've ever been in love with someone ? I mean… I saw you playing Romeo in Broadway and you played so well that it came to my mind that for expressing so pefectly this kind of feelings, you might have experienced it, right ?

Well… - he mumbled, visibly disconcerted. He turned to Patty who showed one of the most innocent face

Well… Let's see… First of all, I'm an actor and my job is to pretend. If I had to portray a murderer, should I have had killed someone to be as well credible ?

You did not answer my question…

Of course, I did!

No, you didn't.. I'm sorry… You've promised to answer all the questions…

Listen… Well… - he did, moving with embarrasment in his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the exit door and felt the irresistible will to rush to it.

I'm listening to you, Mister Graham. Have you ever been in love with someone ?

The young actor turned again to Patty, his gaze incandescent of anger. In which trap she had dragged him down ? This was the last question anyway…

Yes, I've been in love. Are you satisfied now ?

In love ? But who with ? – cried out a young schoolgirl almost fainting.

Who is she ? – asked another voice.

Did you see her again ?

What is shed oing in life ?

Why didn't you marry her ?

Is she pretty ?

The questions came from all sides. Then suddenly, a flash gun crackled, almost blinding him.

What's that ? One of these vultures ? Here ?

He could already imagine the tomorrow scandal sheets's front page with his dazzed face to fit the bleak picture.

_« The famous actor Terrence Graham jostled by yound and innocent students ! What about the young actor's love life ? Who is that mysterious young lady who broke his heart ? One year after his companion's death, here he is again available ! Terrence Graham is a heart for sale! »_

Infuriated, he stided the stage off without saying any goodbye, and promptly went to the exit, leaving the principal dumbfounded, arms dangling. Patty, panicked, set off in pursuit of him.

Terry please, stop here ! - she exclaimed as she tried to retain him while he broke down each door which crossed hi spath. They came out onto an alleyway that adjoined the school's backyard. The night was falling and he hesitated in the direction he should take to escape from that cursed place.

You caught me very well ! – he yelled, poiting a furious finger to the young woman's blemish face.

She always hated to see him angry. It used to scare her at such a level that she could have a wee on herself. All shaking, she sketched a calming gesture that he pushed back violently.

Which crazyness made you dragging me in your delirium ? Are you satisfied now ?

My goodness, Terry, calm down ! I've never wanted that ! I wanted just to make you react, but I would never have imagined that it would turn that way. You must beleive me !

Beleive you ? While you've happily stabbed me in the back ? How beautiful your friendship is ! What a shame !

Beleive me, what I've just done to you is the best proof of my friendship !… I wanted you to come in that academy because I knew that it would remind you of some memories, and I wanted you to face them instead of avoiding them after all these years…

What I've got to do with you ? Do I judge you with your old maid's manners who cries her line in duty soldier ? You're such a pitifull sight !

Judging ? This is what you've just done and in a very crual way !... – she answered, bitting her lips of vexation.

Terry immediatly regretted his words and guessed some tears that pearled under his friend's eyeglasses.

Excuse-me… - he said with a tired voice, back benting – I lose my control each time one gets onto that topic… You did not have the right to do this to me…

Oh yes I had the righ to ! – she said walking towards him – I did have it because I saw you wavering when one made reference to her. I know you still love her and I don't understand why you haven't written to her yet, neither searched to see her again after Suzanna's death. One year, one year has elapsed since she died, and you haven't done any guesture towards Candy yet !

She's better without me… - he whispered.

You'd better think again ! She's far from being so ! She's still in love with you, you know ?...

Really ?... I was convinced that she had forgotten me… That she had turned the page…

Why do you think she works in a modest clinic close to Pony's home, while a brilliant carrier was about to open to her in Chicago ? Because this is the only and unique place that is able to cure her soul injuries, it is her shelter, her equilibrium. For all that, she hasn't healed because you are the one who has got the cure.

I… This is too late ! – he said, shaking his head – I don't want to spoil her life another time…

My Goodness, Terry ! When will you stop refusing this happiness which reaches out to you ?

She paused during a minute, a wave of despair flowing suddenly on her, leaving her unsteady.

If I could – she followed in a muffled sob, scowling of pain – If I could see Alistair again, even just once, I would give my soul for this ! I would be able to suffer hells for him ! My little soldier is dead, he's DEAD, do you understand ! I will never have the chance that's offering to you both ! You're rejecting it because you're too proud. But in fact you are afraid, you're afraid to risk her rejection. Oh Lord, Terry, you have that opportunity to love each other and to be alive !

I don't want… I don't want to make her suffer again – he roared, struggling – I don't want to hear her cries anymore, neither to see her overwhelmed face. This is the last image she left me, you see ? And I damn myself for this every day !

It's up to you to change the course of things… I'm begging you, Terry, write to her ! You'll bring happiness to you both … What are you waiting to be happy at last ?

Terry remained thoughtfull during a long moment. He had been tempted many times to take his pen and to write to Candy, but every time, he thought better of it. He was to ashamed of what he had done to her. I was ashamed of not having the courage to face Suzanna and her mother while Candy and him were just reunited. How had he been able to let her go that night ? He was so young and the weight of guilt so heavy to bear, that he had been unable to reject the young actress, to offer her his care without sacrificing his love for Candy. What remained of all this now ? Black years at putting up with her tears, her whims, and the constant presence of her mother, who, like a house-dog, watched his minor doings. Then, when the sickness appeared and its derrible diagnosis, he had hoped she could realize the things in life's precariousness, realize that her stubbornness at forcing him to live by her side had moved him from her a little more each day while his love for Candy had resisted, had got more strengh, until filling all his days and all his nights. But until the end, she had persisted in her fantasy… Sometimes, in his dreams, he used to still see himself on the steps of this hospital staircase, surrounding his love's thin waist, feeling her soft skin's heat through the fabric of her dress, but that time, he obliged her to turn, he pressed her against him, and retained her for never letting her go again… He used to wake up then in sweat, sobbing, and it used to take him hours to recover from that wonderful but unbearable dream. The sad reality wanted him to live apart from her and he got used to it. He got used to misfortune. She had been the only one to bring him his piece of happiness, piece that had been withdrawn from him because he was not very gifted for this. He turned to patty, and the heart-rending words she had had echoed to him. He looked at her, so fragile, shaking, hidding her immense sorrow under thick glasses, but who did not hesitate in facing him and proving him his behavior's aberration. Contrary to her, the heart of the being he more than ever loved was still beating. However, he was offering himself the luxury to refuse that opportunity, the opportunity to give her a sign, and be able then to reveal her the depth of his feelings. He'd been such a sombre idiot ! It had to be Four-Eyes who brought him back to reason. Candy knew obviously to chose her friends !

Ok, I will write to her – he finally let escape with an almost unaudible voice.

Patty could not beleive what she heard. She walked closer, searching for his gaze.

Su… Sure ?

Sure !

I'm leaving in a week to her home to celebrate her birthday. I hope your letter will be arrived at that time or watch out !

I'm scared to death ! – he cried out, recovering his arrogance. He was indeed very upsetting !

You don't know how right you are ! – she answered, unruffled – Then go back home quickly and write that letter. You promised, don't forget it !

I always keep promise.

Time will tell…

Terry nodded and began to walk the alley back to join the main street and call a taxi. Suddenly, he stopped and turned to Patty :

Forgive me again for the terrible words I had towards you and Al. He was a good guy, a very nice guy ! I've been very sad to hear about his death and I wish you to be able to to get over this one day…

The young woman tensed up of surprise. For the first time, Terry was demostrating to her some compassion, and the words he had for Alistair ended to shake her.

Thank you Terry… He liked you too, you know… - she answered, without trying to keep her tears.

Terry gave a hint of a light smile and turned back to his path. Patty looked at him walking away, paralyzed by the emotion. What she had lived was so intense that she wondered how she could have achieved successfully something which was since the beginning doomed to failure. After a while, she could recover her mind and joined back her classroom. Her pupils were waiting for her, almost hysterical. She explained that the sudden leaving of the attractive actor resulted from a professional emergency. Though the schoolgirls were not fooled, she kept her statement. Controlling them was proven to be more arduous than mastering that hell of Terrence Grandchester !...

When coming back later, exhausted, she reminded of the late events of the day and deeply prayed that Terry won't change his mind. She remained however optimistic. What she had seen in his eyes showed his determination. It was just a matter of time before he writes to Candy.

The following morning, early hour, someone rang at the door. Her mind still clouded by sleep, she went up and half-opened the door. It was a messenger with a letter. There was inside a letter for Candy, followed by a little word for her :

_« Dear Patty,_

_As you can see, I can keep my promise ! I must admit it is the one of the easiest I had to keep._

_Here is the letter I wrote for Candy. I'm leaving it to you to give it to her in person. I will just ask you to well think before giving it to her. Be sure that she is ready for this. In the contrary, please, abstain you. I only want Candy's happiness, and if a gesture on my behalf could ruin her equilibrium, I could not stand it. I leave it then to your wisdom and will be eternally grateful to you for this._

_With all my friendship, _

_Terrence »_

A smile of satisfaction on her lips, Patty put the envelope in her dresser, same means of storage that it will occupy later, in the bottom of a night-table's drawer in a bedroom of Pony's home.

End of chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

Lettres à Juliette

Chapter 3

Patricia O'Brien opened her eyes. The daylight pierced generously through the window's curtains of her bedroom and let guess the late hour of the morning. The young woman sat up in her bed, a little ashamed for not having waked up earlier. Candy's bed next to her was empty and well done. That latter had certainly gone since the eve to Dr Martin's clinic and had made sure to not make any noise when leaving the room. Patty regretted that Candy had not taken more free time to spend with her. But she could understand very well the interest she showed in her work. She suspected that it might have been a great support when dark thoughts haunted her mind, as well as her teaching profession had given a meaning to her life after Alistair's death. She turned her gaze to the drawer of her night table and sighed with consternation. It was her last day at Pony's home, and she had not found yet the right time to give Terry's letter to Candy. One had to admit that the young blonde was very surrounded. On the evening, since her return from the clinic, the children would bombard her with questions about her work, and she would answer them patiently:

No, she did not have any punctured eye or any ripped out arm to treat, neither blood squirting onto the walls. No, Dr Martin did not amputate any limb, neither made any experimentation on dead bodies. Yes, she gave injections and when she took blood samples, the needle did not pass through the patient's arm…

The first night, Patty had turned pale in front those angel faces' morbid curiosity, but Candy had reassured her by explaining her that it was an age in which they liked to frighten themselves. It was their way to get rid of their anguish. Anyway, they were very good at moving from a topic to another one. As proof, their interest in hemoglobin had straight away disappeared when one of the most angelic of all, had mentioned the pleasant theme of goat droppings and cat wee-wee, eloquent topic, endless source of poetic and refined expressions, until Sister Lane popped her head around the window and, clapping in her hands, put a definitive end to their enthusiasm… until the following day. Candy observed this with a smirk, which let imagine the loving complicity that made her so close to those kids. In the face of her friend's alarmed expression, she had not hesitated to maliciously finish her off by confessing her that on the same age, Annie and her had escaped for a day, and pinched Miss Pony's bottle of wine, which led to their first drunkenness. Patty had remained speechless with stupefaction and had found her words back long time later only. During the whole evening, Candy had laughed about it.

Her stay had thus elapsed quietly. Every morning, Candy would leave to work and would come back, tired of her day, but always in a good mood, available for her friend, her two teachers and the kids. To be closer to her, Patty had come with her one day at the clinic, but she quickly had realized that only seeing a blood drop melted with drugs' smells, turned her stomach upside down until giving her nauseas and headaches, which prevented her from doing anything, such that the following day, she had to give up to reiterate the experimentation, refusing to be a useless burden. She would settle then for having good time at Pony's home, for walking around, helping Sister Lane and Miss pony in their daily tasks, as she waited for Candy's return. Time had elapsed so quickly and she had shared so little of it with Candy, that she had came to the conclusion that may be it was not the right time to hand in Terry's letter to her. Actually, she had found her so lighthearted, so cheery that Albert and Annie's sinister description of it had not seemed to her so obvious. Talking to her about Terry, at the risk of jeopardizing her whole equilibrium, seemed to her incongruous, as long as she would not have succeeded in knowing her deepest thoughts. All things considered, Candy was may be happier without him? After her comeback to Pony's, she had built herself an impassable fortress, a shelter far from everything that could remind her painful times. Did she, did they, Albert, Annie, and her, the right to seal her fate? Was it really a good idea of wanting to reunite them while the people concerned had not made that effort? This was what was nagging Patty and troubling her sleep.

But in a little more than a month, they would leave together on a trip, alone, them both, without anybody coming between them or withdrawing Candy from her thoughts. And there, she would be able to better sound her and pronounce. What would represent few weeks in comparison with the elapsed years, all the more so she was not aware of what was hatched? Yes, considering the situation, she had just taken the right decision: waiting a little bit more, not dashing for preserving Candy's sake, and for her happiness, may be…

She moved to the table at the other side of the bedroom, table that Candy used as her desk, and wrote a letter to Albert and Annie in which she explained her choice. The postman would soon be there and she would hand in it to him. Then she stood up and came closer to the window. Sister Lane was teaching class to the kids in the field next to the house, visibly a natural science lesson since the children looked passionate in the ground's turning over, the stones, leaves and little beasts collect. Suddenly, Sister Lane froze, with an angry gaze and frowning, she strode to Robbie, a seven years old little rascal, who was having fun with an earthworm that he waved under little Emma's nose who was howling with fear. The poor Robbie ended the lesson next to Sister Lane, his left ear a little redder the his right one… Patty could not prevent herself from laughing before the funny scene and admitted innerly that Pony's little world deserved the affection, the near adoration that Candy felt for it. Here, nothing serious could happen, except… except getting dragged by the ears by Sister Lane…

Chapter 3's translation to be continued soon…

Ps: All my gratitude to Jo for her clever advises…

The train from Chicago arrived in Grand Central Terminal of New-York and Candy felt deeply upset. How many years had elapsed since the last time she had put a foot in that town? Seven, height years may be? Long time ago, she had made the decision not to count them anymore… Moreover, hadn't she expressed the wish not to come back here anymore so much painful the evocation of those places was, even after all this time? However, looking her closer, one would never be able to guess that deep sorrow that lived inside her. As to avoid worrying her relatives, and more than anything to prevent people from talking about him, she had hidden her feelings, shut up her emotions, showing an always-cheerful face, sometimes forced but under control. Recalling Terry remained unbearable, even with her friends, and she was very grateful to them to respect her silence regarding him. But presently she was well and truly in New York and she would have to face it. One had not found the means to move the Atlantic Ocean until Chicago, and she would have to make the best with Manhattan Harbour to get on board towards the old continent.

The convoy decreased little by little, announcing its arrival with big blasts of whistles, then roughlier, under a blaring of pistons, brakes screeches, and piercing vapour jets. It was the turmoil among the acrid smoke of the big smoke stack's charcoal briquettes. Candy stood up and popped her head around the half-opened window of her luxurious cabin. The vapour clouds prevented her from well distinguishing the profiles on the gate. She had to meet Patty on the boat, but Albert had informed her that he would send one of his employees from his new-yorkean office to welcome her at the station then lead her to the gate.

She made bring her suitcases down and as they were piled up on the trolley (Annie had made her clean out all the fashion shops of Chicago…), she glanced at the endless gate, expecting an unknown face to come to her. As nobody came, she stepped forward towards the central hall, the baggage official on her heals. Reaching the hall and surprised by the roominess of the place, she followed one of the imposing stairs which led to the first floor in which were numerous restaurants and cafés for passengers waiting for their train. Then, up on her tiptoe, her frail profile leaning on the balcony guardrail that overlooked the station's heart, she began to observe the crowd downstairs that scattered by little packs towards the galleries that bordered the main hall and led to the distinct gates.

She could see, next to the ticket offices, the station employee patiently waiting for her with his trolley. From her viewpoint, she could not stand the majesty of the place. How had she been able, last time, to miss that splendid building built in the art school's style? How had she been able to neglect the information desk's four-faced clock, in the middle of the hall, which intrigued each passer-by by its originality? Then, when raising her head, the Grand Hall's majestic ceiling, painted by a French artist, and representing the zodiac constellations based on a medieval manuscript. The daylight that entered into the main hall through three imposing 28-meter-high arch-shaped windows allowed the emphasis of the main stars among 2500 other ones. It was like gigantic heavenly swords pierced the walls to come down on the granite slabs that covered the ground.

Indeed, how had she been able to ignore the majesty of that place? ...

Because that day, while she crossed the station, heart beating, the only thought that occupied her mind was to see him gain, him, at last, after more than a year of separation. Her eyes clouded over with tears, legs wobbly, her heart knocking so strongly in her chest, she would not have been able to notice, in spite of all her efforts, the architectural jewel in which she was. And when, at last, she had found him back, him, all the turmoil that surrounded her had vanished. There were no more train, no more din, no more travellers bumping into her as they passed a bit too closer from her. Only remained his long profile and his greenish blue eyes that were staring at her, shining with light.

It felt, at that time, like living that moment again. Her, squeezing her fists against her heart, refraining, by prudishness, from throwing her arms around his neck while she was dying to. While him, paralyzed by the emotion, was telling her name, gently, tenderly, in a way that he would use for her only.

A hand laid itself on her shoulder and she startled with surprise. Withdrawn form her nostalgic thoughts, she could hardly recover her mind for a while. A red-haired young man, dressed in an elegant navy blue suit, was standing in front of her, holding a chauffeur-cap.

Miss Andrew, I presume? – Asked the young man as she nodded – My name is Douglas, your uncle's chauffeur, Sir William Andrew. I'm very sorry, but an accident a few blocks from here disrupted the traffic and prevented me from arriving on time to welcome you. I would be very grateful to you for excusing me for this delay.

No problem at all, Douglas – said Candy smiling – Thanks to you, I had time enough to admire the beauty of this place. I did not imagine a station could reunite so much delicacy.

I'm very pleased about it, miss and I thank you for your indulgency. I've met downstairs the baggage handler and I've asked him to forward your suitcases to your boat. You will find them back in your suite when arriving. Besides, as we have several hours before us before your departure, I'm suggesting you to visit the streets of New York. This is a splendid city by this glorious day!

Well, rather than waiting sadly in my cabin… I accept with pleasure your company, Douglas!

I'm delighted to know that, miss! I promise you an unforgettable ride!

Do I have to take you at your word, Douglas? – She said, laughing – You're raising the bar, you know? Come on, guide me in the fairyland of New York!

Please, come this way, miss – said the chauffeur with a bow – Your carriage is waiting for you, a few meters from here.

They left the station by the side of Park Avenue, and the place's overgrowth, once again, amazed Candy. The wide street, longed with skyscrapers, straightaway disappeared towards the skyline. The young woman felt tiny in the middle of those buildings which top of them seemed to vanish in the clouds. A succession of taxis grouped together in front of the entry, patiently waiting for their turn then quickly running away with a new passenger on their board. After few meters, Douglas stopped in front of a car, a nice convertible-top, very original compared to the classic allure of the young driver.

- I thought that with the shining sun that baths the city this afternoon, you would appreciate to be open-topped rather than be locked in a limousine… - he said while he made her sit on the passenger's seat.

Candy acquiesced with a smile then they left, their sport car's humming noise easily fitting in the traffic cacophony. The young woman closed her eyes and relaxed, pleasantly welcoming the soft touch of the air on her pretty face. The weather was fine, not too hot, just what it needed to enjoy, hood up, this ride. Her hand holding the lovely cloche hat that perfidiously slipped out of her head, she sat more comfortably and opened big children's eyes on the urban landscape before her green pupils. The tour had nothing academic. They easily moved from the Saint Patrick Cathedral and its neo-gothic front, to the financial quarter of Wall Street and its statue of George Washington which turned its back to the Federal Hall. Then they went around the big Public Library with its immense reading rooms, and they turned off towards Brooklyn Bridge. They slowed down in front of the Woolworth building, the town's highest building with its sixty floors, reducing the Plaza Hotel on the 5th avenue to the size of a tiny model.

Suddenly, Candy recognized a quartier she had explored many years before, a place overflowing with illuminated and colored fronts, weighting down with tens of signs and ads screwed to their roofs. A crossing-sign pointed Broadway Street, Broadway, mythic place in which Terry exercised… While the theatres paraded slowly before her eyes, the young Andrew's heart froze. The Palais Royal, the Warner's Theatre, the Ziegfield theatre and its Folies, the Winter Garden, the Maxime Elliott's, the Casino, all those names were making her feel giddy. She closed her eyes, fearing to see Terry's face on one of the posters. He had become a huge star in New York, and she would not have been surprised to see his name, written in full, sparkling on one of those theaters' fronts. Through the newspapers, she was aware of his remarkable rise, but she did not know anything about his private life. During long months, she had waited, hoped for a sign from him, but she did not receive any. She knew he was devastated by Suzanna Marlowe's death, the young actress whom they had broken for, which would give a good reason to his silence. After all those years taking care of her then accompanying her in her fight against the illness, he might have become attached to her and created links that even death could not break. Going back to his first love, after all this time, might have seemed ridiculous to him so much they did not have anymore anything in common, apart few months spent together in Saint Paul and few letters exchanged when she was a student nurse. What contained those letters was so prudish that an unknown person reading it could have been able to think that good friends simply talking about their days wrote them. Finally, she might have dreamed that love that used to unite them, and the tears they both had shed on these hospital's stairs, could only express a regrettable misunderstanding. It was always difficult and painful to part, even more if ones were so good friends. They had showed it that way, certainly because of too much sensitivity…

They might have indeed been friends, but had they been really in love? At least, what about Terry? On her side, she had been able to say it, to yell it, on that Southampton gate which had seen the young man's boat leaving for America. Then she had been able to write it, to proclaim it in her diary that she had untrusted to Albert when leaving Saint Paul Academy. But she had never heard those words from his mouth. He had never whispered those tender words to her though she was able to swear, at that time, that a very special link united them. There was no doubt at all now about her misjudgment. Terry had obviously moved on, turned a leaf on their fleetingly relationship. She had to do the same and stop living in the past. A tear of bitterness rolled on her fresh air-pinked cheek, quickly wiped by an agile hand in order to hide her trouble. Noticing his passenger's sudden dejection, the driver stepped on the accelerator and took the direction to Central Park. His boss had untrusted him a mission that was not really as pleasant as it looked like.

When seeing her at the station, he had first been wondered by the grace and beauty that came out from her. It was not so much the elegance of the clothes she wore (a Chanel shirt-dress in beige jersey, tied at her ankles by a matching scarf, enhanced by a long-sleeved cardigan, displaying a tulle pink-greyed flower at the buttonhole) that fascinated him, but the extraordinary aura that emanated from her, perched on ravishing spool heels shoes, a kind of natural seduction which she was not even aware. Her solar smile and her green eyes, the prairies' colors of his childhood Ireland, had finished to bewitching him, and he hoped in his heart of hearts, that she would not suspect the emotion she generated in him. It was unbearable for him to have to make her suffer that way, but Sir William Andrew, for an unknown reason, had really insisted that Candy crosses, _at a very moderate pace_, the district of Broadway. On the other hand, he did not understand what could trouble the young lady so much. Was a resurfacing sulfurous past that she wanted to conceal? Or a tragedy that had happened on that place in which scandal and strokes of bad luck were commonly in close contact with triumph and glory? He knew too little about his boss' adoptive daughter to launch into definitive conclusions such that he could not prevent his imagination to elaborate all kind of hypotheses. He was nevertheless sure of something: Broadway had unhinged her and it was unfortunately what was expected.

The tour imagined by Albert was not ended yet, and the young Irish man wondered whether he would be able to keep on being the witness of that distress without reacting. Then came to his mind the big amount of money offered for that job, and the enormous debts he will be able to pay, and followed with regret his task. After all, a ride had never hurt anybody!...

They went around the Museum of Natural History then drove one more streets to south until the 66th. The convertible stopped in front the park entry, all gates opened on the strollers searching for some fresh air.

What about a little walk in the park to stretch our legs? – Asked Douglas as Candy remained silent, absorbed by her nostalgic thoughts.

He got out from the car and walked around it to open the young thoughtful's door.

And the last arrived one to Bethesda Fountain will offer an ice cream to the other one! – He said, becoming bolder to see her reaction, fearing a scathing riposte before his audacity.

She raised interrogative eyes to him, but against all odds, she answered him with a large smile that disconcerted him. She had visibly the gift to conceal, in a flash, her states of mind…

This is a good idea, Douglas! – She said cheerfully – That ride really gave me an appetite! I already know that I will have the great privilege to offer that ice cream to you because I don't have the suitable shoes to beat you by a whisker!

No way! I will be the lucky winner anyway because I would never allow a lady of your condition to run the paths like a vulgar common! It was already a piece of cake!

You are smart, Douglas! – She answered back, with a malicious eye – You'd better think again! My condition, as you said, do not prevent me from climbing the trees neither use the lasso. I am may be an Andrew with all her obligations, but I'm mainly a girl from Michigan, a farmer with a bit of education. I wear overalls very well, you know?

You're kidding me, miss, and this is not nice to laugh at me! – Said the chauffeur bursting out of laughing, very skeptical about the pretty blonde's comments.

Not at all, Douglas! I'm telling you the truth!

Hahaha! I almost believed you! Please, stop teasing me, Miss Andrew, and let's go and search for an ice-cream shop.

Vexed, Candy hit the ground with a furious foot and hurried to join him back with long strides. He could not possibly take her for a liar! Coming up to him, she looked at him straight in the eyes et started to tell him the story of her life, without giving details, but in a sufficient way that it could not deny anymore the obvious. At the end, the chauffeur might know more about the Andrew's heir's life than gossip magazines that were normally well informed. He observed her in silence, all engaged in her tale, and still found difficulty to believe that the divine creature who was walking at his side had grown up in an orphanage, then been a female companion for tyrannical kids yearning for punching-bags, to end adopted by a great uncle William who had sent her to an high school in England, studies that she had concluded by a nursing formation after her return to America. Mute of admiration, he realized that under his interlocutor's sophisticated look was hidden a rebellious and independent mind who knew how to bravely face each obstacle of her life until diverting the tragic nature of it and change it into a positive experimentation. Without realizing it, she was giving him a lesson of life and he was even more admiring for it. In spite of this, he could not understand how such strong personality had, few minutes before, so easily cracked up? What, WHO had then so much carved her existence to make her so well built carapace cracks so easily?

As they talked, they walked deeper in the park, then went back up the Mall, a long alley with trees in which used to quietly meet cabriolets with on their board rich walkers who used to come to appreciate the panorama without having to mix with lower status passers-by. The carriages got on file at the end of the alley around Bethesda Terrace, a place considered as the most romantic of the 341 hectares green lung's town.

This little architectural wonder was built on two levels: the first one offered an astonishing view over the surrounding lake and woods, also over the impressive skyscrapers that bordered the park. The ground floor was reachable thanks to two granite stairs, located at both sides of the terrace. In its continuation was a circular square tiled with briquettes, with in its middle, a fountain wearing a bronze statue, the Angel of the Waters. Candy contemplated, enchanted, the place, enjoying watching the game of some children who were plunging their hands into the frozen water to refresh themselves from the heat. Some other ones were turning around a balloon seller, calling out to their parents with big shouts to make them yield to their request. Not far away, some gourmand ones were impatiently waiting their turn in front the ice-cream seller. Candy remembered then the chauffeur's offer and stepped towards the trolley man but Douglas had already got ahead before her and blocked her way, holding two enormous dripping horns.

Vanilla or chocolate? – He said, smirking mischievously.

You've just awakened the great gourmand who sleeps in me, Douglas! My uncle won't be happy if I get fat because of you – she answered, simulating indignation.

Let me take the risk!... – he added, his smile widening, revealing a double row of white teeth. Candy laughed innerly. She had not noticed he had a gap between his upper teeth: the lucky gap… She found that charming.

Before the young man's insistence, she shrugged off and stretched her hand to the chocolate horn that she greedily raised to her mouth. The ice cream was tasty, with inside cracking chocolate chips. It was absolutely delicious!

As they were walking back the path that longed the lake on which crafts were quietly sailing, Candy's nostalgic mood had disappeared before the pleasure taken by her stomach. She remembered a phrase that Miss Pony used to continually repeat but proved in that case all its good sense: "whatever happens, one must get one's belly full. It allows evaluating things differently in the following…". The precept might not last indefinitely but it had undeniably an invigorating action. The young woman turned her face to her riding companion who opened his eyes widely and burst out of laughing.

I must admit, miss Andrew, that wearing mustache does not suit you at all!... – he said, hilarious, offering her an handkerchief.

Red-faced, Candy quickly wiped out her mouth and checked the result through a little mirror shoved into her bag. She corrected one or two chocolate rebellious marks, grousing against her gluttony that was able make her lose all good manners. If Great Aunt Elroy had been there, she would not have hesitated in mocking her openly. "One cannot change a donkey into a racehorse!" – she had heard the old lady saying about her as Albert forced her adoption. That acid remark had deeply hurt her.

The afternoon is about to end and you'll have to join back your boat. But we have time enough for a last ride in a very pleasant place, what do you think about it?

Candy hadn't notice the time passing! That exploration of New York had enchanted her and she was not against a last discovery.

With great pleasure, Douglas! You've been until now a very instructive guide. I'm curious to know that last place which sounds, according to you, very promising.

Oddly enough, the chauffeur did not answer, settling for leading her to the path that led them back to their car. Hands in his pockets, he stared at the ground to hide his embarrassment. Sometimes, obeying to his boss' orders were very difficult!...

On the way, the change of appearance of the streets they were going through surprised Candy by their irregular and narrow size. The skyscrapers had slowly given way to three red-bricked stories buildings. The residential atmosphere of the place was far away from what she had seen of New York since her arrival.

Appearances are deceptive, miss! – He answered her as she was asking him about this – We are presently in one of the most rebellious district of Manhattan, at least, from a cultural point of view. We are in the heart of Greenwich Village district, which is here considered as one of the bastion of the artistic culture and a certain way of living that could be qualified as bohemia. Many artists come and live here because they find there a way of thinking that looks like them, a kind of spirit of freedom. As a proof, few streets only, have kept their number while most of them have preferred having a name. This is confusing for the poor New York citizen who comes and ventures here. Most of them cannot find their way back.

What about you, Douglas? Do you fear getting lost? – Inquired Candy, a bit worried, desiring not to miss her boat.

It will never happen, miss! I know that place like the back of my hand because… my girlfriend lives here…! – He exclaimed, giving her a knowing glance – Every night, I come and see her at the cabaret, the Greenwich Village Follies. She's a dancer, you know, and she is really very talented.

As they were talking, they went past Washington Square Park and its white Arch dedicated to George Washington. All around, the white tiled pavement would welcome chess players on permanently fixed tables. Then they drove back toward the north, meeting along the way, art galleries, bistros and vaudeville theatres. Douglas confessed to her that some artists like the musician Cole Porter, or the poetess Edna St Vincent Millay, were living in the area. Candy had read some of her subversive poems and admitted innerly that this village contained some full color people. Finally, the chauffeur came to a halt on a little square, on the corner of Horacio Street and the 8th. He pointed a little three stories building with an Italian restaurant on the ground-floor, the Napoli.

See, miss, I can tell you this. You see that window on the left, on the third floor? Well, it's my girlfriend's apartment, my dear Martha, Martha Graham.

Graham? – Said Candy, tensing up.

Yes, Graham! – He chuckled – But I can assure you there is no relationship with the famous actor, Terrence Graham, though I wish her a career as beautiful as his. As fate would have it him moving in that building next to hers, the one that you see, the big one on the left, with red and brown bricks and Greco-antic moldings. Isn't it a funny accident?

That's right… - she muttered, paralyzed by the surprise of such news. Without wanting it, she was in front of Terry's building whose art-deco front stretched out to another street's corner, Horacio Street.

_Horacio, Prince hamlet's friend, the Shakespeare heroes…_

The choice of the place suddenly seemed obvious to her. It was really Terry's home! He was really living there, in that building before which they had just stopped by. She could not stop staring at the building. A doorman was standing before the entry, hands crossed behind his back. Upper raising her head, she noticed that the construction was wearing a terrace that surrounded it. She could bet that it was the floor in which he was living. Terry was not the kind of man to live locked between four walls. He needed space, to feel free, and she could easily imagine him leaning on his terrace's ramp and looking at the horizon. Could he, from his viewpoint, see the Hudson River, which Horacio Street led to? Perhaps on these times, he would remember his past, and may be, would think about…

Douglas' strong Irish accent withdrew her from her thoughts.

I would have liked introducing Martha to you but she must be repeating at the Follies. Anyway, we mustn't lose time now if we don't want to miss the ship.

Saying that, hitting the accelerator, he restarted the engine which began to snore noisily, then they left their parking place. Slowly, they turned around the square to find back the 8th, which went down to southern Manhattan. Terry's building was little by little disappearing, concealed by the trees and the fountain of the square. Then the 8th street's corner added itself to her field of vision. As they were moving away, she did not dare turn completely, twisting hurtfully her neck. In a few seconds, she would not distinguish anything anymore, the building would become a vanishing point on the horizon line, a point among thousands other ones.

_Terry… So close…_

_One more time and it won't be anymore…_

This is then, prompted by an irresistible desire, her feelings taking possession of her reason, she laid her hand on the steering wheel and said:

Stop!

Douglas turned towards her, wide opening his eyes with surprise.

Please, stop! – She asked him, le plaintive tone of her voice betraying her vivid emotion.

The chauffeur agreed with a sigh and Candy promptly jumped out off the car. Maintaining her hat on her head with her hand, she ran back the one hundred meters that separated her from Terry's residence. When arriving, she outright stopped before the massive front door and suddenly realized what she had just done. Which craziness had just taken possession of her? What was she doing before that door, like an enamored groupie? She might look so stupid and ridiculous!... She imagined herself ringing at Terry's door and saying with a stupid smile and hopping ridiculously:

Hello Terry! This is me, Candy!

The doorman was, from the corner of his eye, watching her speaking aloud to herself. Impassible, he seemed visibly disposed to chase her if she would make one more step. Red-faced, she was about to leave when the front door opened. On the fly, she almost fainted, thinking in the space of a second to have discerned the famous actor's profile in the frame door. With a lump I her throat, unable to breath, she realized that it was in reality a lady in her sixties, small sized and corpulent, a shopping bag hanging on her folded arm. She was looking at her inquisitively.

May I help you, Miss? You wished to get in may be?

Candy's cheeks went up in flames. Nose-diving to her feet, embarrassed, she painfully stammered:

So… Sorry to have bothered you. My name is Candy… Candice White Andrew. I… I am a friend of one of that building's tenant. Terr… I mean Terrence Graham. We've both studied in the same college, in Saint Paul's Academy, in London.

The old lady remained silent, settling for observing Candy. Feeling more and more embarrassed, that latter added, giving a hint of sidestep to steal away the quickest possible.

I'm leaving for Europe tonight, and… As I was in the area, I came to a halt before Terry's house… I mean, Mister Graham's.

I'm his housekeeper. Mister Terrence has not come back yet from his rehearsals! – The old lady dryly answered.

Candy lifted a reassuring hand toward the woman.

No no, I did not have in mind to bother him! I don't not why I stopped by here either. Please, forgive me for the inconvenience, Mrs. I'm leaving right now. Good-bye!...

She had not walked a little when she heared a voice calling her back.

Hold on, please!

Candy froze in her stride, stupefied, and turned around. That time, the old woman was looking at her benevolently.

You look very out of breath. What about a cup of tea?

Well… - Candy stammered, dumfounded – As I just told you, I don't know what I'm doing here and…

This is why a cup of tea will be good to you. There is nothing better to clean one's mind. Don't be shy. Come on, come…

The housekeeper nodded to the doorman who opened the door before them. Like in a trance, Candy obeyed and followed her inside. A long and large hall with marble tiles led to a spiral staircase. At the stair's foot, on its left, an elevator served all the floors. A reception office faced it. Behind it, a series of mailboxes were hung on the wall and Candy distinguished Terry's name on one of them.

_It was not a dream. Everything was real!... _

The old lady gestured Candy to follow her in the lift, and pressed the 10th and last floor's button.

My name is Denise. In the beginning, I was employed by Mrs. Marlowe. But after her daughter's death, I preferred to serve Mister. Under his gruff manners, he is very charming.

Candy nodded, blushing.

He is in great need of care! – She followed – If I were not there, he would be able to forget to feed himself! Fortunately, I'm keeping an eye on things! I'm the one who goes for his shopping, as you've noticed – she said, showing her bag. I don't want the servants to do it, they would be able to buy anything. I'm also the one who watch the cooking. I want him to eat good meals. At least, if does not get fat, he won't lose weight!

Candy could not prevent herself from laughing. She was imagining Terry, sitting down at the table under Mother Denise's survey, moralizing him if he was not eating enough. It must have been very funny to see.

The elevator stopped and the security gate opened. The housekeeper came out and knocked at the only door that was on the floor. A housemaid's head appeared in the slight opening.

Ah, Agatha! Let me introduce you Miss Andrew, a friend of Sir Terrence – cried out Denise as she reached out her shopping bag to her – Could you please lead her to the lounge while I'm going to make myself more comfortable. Then, will you go and prepare some tea for us, some earl Grey, please?

The maid nodded silently and gestured Candy to follow her. They crossed the vestibule and walk along a hall which served the living rooms. They passed by a dining room, whose chairs' elongated backs, aligned around the big rectangular table, recalled the Mackintosh style, an English contemporary architect, appreciated for its contrast between strong right angles and floral-inspired decorative motifs with subtle curves proper to Art Nouveau. Then they entered the lounge, that a room divider, of Japanese inspiration, separated from the former room. Legs quivering, the young woman took a few steps in the white-painted room, contemplating the place without really seeing it, so much troubled she was. Two bay windows, parted by a Carrara marbled fireplace, opened on the terrace, the one she had seen from the street. She was not mistaking about Terry's tastes…

A greenish-colored Persian carpet lied in front the fireplace in the middle of which a refined-shaped massive wooden coffee table sat enthroned. Few travelling and decoration books piled up on the corner of the table. Above the fireplace, was a painting made by little known artist named Pablo Picasso. The one-meter-high oil on canvas represented a boy holding a pipe with his left hand and wearing a crown of flowers on his head. Candy was looking at the painting with perplexity when the maid proposed her to sit down on the beige-leathered sofa that was behind her.

Miss Denise won't be late. I'm making haste to go and prepare your tea.

Candy thanked her and sat on the sofa, laying her cumbersome cloche-hat down the coffee table. But after a minute, her legs were already restless. Once again, she wondered what she was doing here and how Terry would react if he appeared suddenly in front of her. What would she be able to tell him? Which reason would she invoke to explain her presence in his home? He would certainly feel very embarrassed to see her again and she did not want to experience such humiliation. If he had really wished to see her, he would have acted accordingly long time ago. She really had nothing to do here.

Unable to wait anymore, she stood up, decided to run away from that place. But as she was leaving the room, she stopped, intrigued on her left by a familiar form that she could see by a half-opened door at the end of the corridor.

_No, it wasn't possible…_

She came closer, hear beating and saw the edge of a grand piano, a piano lacquered in black, recognizable among all by its ivory border that hemmed in its four corners. Terry had explained her that it was a unique piece, a present from his father for his mother, that he hurried to get back after their break up. He had confided it to her in Scotland, during their summer holidays, one of the happiest moments of her life. She reminded the piano lesson he had started to give her and the loving teasings he had inflicted on her. That day, she had realized how much she loved him, that those feelings she thought forever dead after Anthony's death, were able to come back to life, may be even stronger, thanks to him and for him only…

Terry might have moved that piano back from Scotland. Why? A little inner voice murmured her an explanation but she refused to hear it, stubbornly pushing back the risk of mistaking. Overcome by a élan of curiosity imprinted with nostalgia, she opened a little more the door and entered the room that was almost as big as the lounge. It also opened on the terrace bathed with the glows of an ending afternoon tired sun. The French window's curtains, dubbed with pale velvet, had been pulled to protect the furniture but were still leaving a way to some rays of light that gave to the room an atmosphere both mysterious and serene. Candy sat on the piano stool, lifted the fallboard that covered the fingerboard, and let ran her fingers on the keys, making vibrating the wires which let escape few notes that remembered her the impromptu that Terry had composed to the glory of Miss Freckled Tarzan. Remembering this, Candy began to laugh and saw her laughing face reflecting on the varnished fallboard. She nearly thought that Terry was sitting next to her, his shoulder brushing hers, but she realized quickly that it was only the figment of her imagination. Desiring to chase from her mind those embarrassing visions, she deviated from the piano and browsed through the room. Facing her, against the opposite wall, an imposing library sheltered all kinds of old gold-gilded and leathered books. A brown-colored wing chair and its footrest were next to it, followed by a lamp-topped pedestal table for the reader's convenience. On the left angle of the wall, a secretary was partially opened. It should be Terry's, the bureau on which he should write his letters and his plays. She could not imagine him settling for exercising his art through other people's talent. Terry was a creative and she would never be surprised to learn one day that he played his own works.

Plunged into the famous actor's intimacy, she wanted to pull up the secretary's small wooden stripped curtain, but she thought better about it. It was not her to be so curious and she immediately reproached to herself to think about such bad manners. She turned her back to it, hands leaning against the curtain she had just pulled down, and raised her gaze towards the wing chair. But what she saw above it, something that she had not noticed in the beginning on the wall, made her almost faint. She came closer, quivering, her heart's beatings hurtfully crashing to her chest. What troubled her so intensely was a painting, a painting that described a country landscape, a place she knew perfectly for having lived and grown up there:

_Pony's home !_

Bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle a shout, she could not stop the too long contained burning tears from rolling like in a stream on her cheeks. Trembling, she touched with her slender fingers the painting to be sure that she was not dreaming. It was indeed a depiction of Pony's home, with its chapel and its bell tower standing toward heaven, whose multicolored stained glass window sparkled of the summer sunlight. Side-by-side, like two benevolent hostesses, Sister lane and Miss Pony's profiles standing on the doorstep were easily distinguishable.

_How did that painting arrive here? Who had painted Pony's home? _

She looked at it closer, and noticed in the corner, down to the right, a signature whose name she could not decipher: John. Was it Little John she had been raised with, the one who used to wet his bed? Several years later, he had been adopted by a rich English family, and she had learnt later, that they had gone back to live in London. Did Terry find that painting in that town? Why a depiction of her dearest place was staying in his home, in the most secret room of his apartment? Could it be possible that he had not forgotten her? She was convinced of it until then, but, discovering the unambiguous signs that contained that place, she could not deny the obvious anymore. But why had he never given any news to her? If he still cared of her, why that silence then? Without any break, questions were firing her mind.

A feminine voice behind her abruptly came and put an end to her wonderings.

Would you like some milk in your tea, Miss Andrew?

Surprised, Candy startled, ashamed of being discovered in that room while she was supposed to be in the lounge. She turned around, revealing an overwhelmed and wet face to the housekeeper who was innocently looking at her, holding a cup of tea.

- I… I feel very sorry, madam! – She stammered, livid – I shouldn't be there… My curiosity has dashed all my sense of conventions. I must look very ill bred to you, please forgive me. But… When I saw that piano, I could not prevent myself from coming near it. It recalls me so good memories… It…

But she could not end what she was saying, her words broken by a violent sob. Hiding her face with her hands, she rushed in the corridor, Miss Denise following her, still holding the cup of tea that was all along spilling out on the ground. The fugitive had already reached the door and quickly opened it.

Come on, don't leave like that! – Cried out the housekeeper as she was trying to keep her by her arm – You're going to miss Mister Graham! He is about to be there, you know!

I…. I'm really sorry, this is over my might! – She moaned, shaking her head – Good… Good-bye, madam – she added, one last time turning around – Excuse-me…

Then she dived into the elevator, pressing like a maniac on the switch. The machine began to actuate and slowly proceeded its descent. Miss Denise bent over the stairwell and looked at Candy disappearing under her eyes, bowing back, and shacking with sobs. When reaching the ground floor, the lift stopped and she heard the hastened young woman's steps vanishing to the exit. Against all odds, a smile of satisfaction appeared on her lips. She went back to Terry's intimate room and walked toward the library. She was visibly looking for a special book and ended by taking from the shelf a very rare edition of the famous play of Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet. She quickly glanced through it, then stopped on a page that had, several weeks before, captured her attention. That day, as the book was lying about on the lounge's table, she had decided to put it back to its place. She did not want the servants to damage or to lose it during the cleaning of the room. As she was putting it back to its place, it had opened and let fall a magazine's article. She had picked it up and read it. This several years old article, talked about the entry in the world of a young heir of Chicago, Miss Candice W. Andrew, and the picture which represented her did not leave any more doubt about the young woman's identity she had just welcomed in, few minutes before. Confused, she once again looked at the article's picture than put it back in its hiding place. She sighed with relief. She was having finally the explanation to all her questions.

Terrence Graham wearily pushed his apartment's door. He nodded to Agatha who was coming to meet him to take his jacket and his boater, then he went to the lounge. A good whisky would make good to him. Those rehearsals were exhausting!

He poured to himself a glassful of amber liquid, swallowed a sip of it, adjusted the radio to a jazz station, and let him fall in the sofa, head and feet laid on the armrests and leaving dangling his arm. He closed his eyes for a while, listening to the lively music that was coming out from the speakers, then stood up to drink one more gulp of whisky. This is when he noticed an object on the coffee table before him. Taking the hat with his free hand, he looked at it closer.

Miss Denise has indeed bought herself a very elegant headgear! – He said to himself as he looked at the haute-couture label's headgear that was sewed in the inner border.

But he immediately thought better of it when his nostrils met the tender smell that emanated from it: a familiar but very special perfume, with violets and country flowers scents. A perfume he hadn't had the pleasure to smell for years…. Anguish-stricken, his heart flutterings almost exploding, he stoop up abruptly, dropping his glass of whisky which wracked on the ground. Attracted to the noise, the housekeeper rushed into the lounge, and in the meantime tensed up as she discovered her employer's overwhelmed face, holding Candy's cloche-hat.

Who came here? – He cried out with a shaking voice, brandishing the object that was waking up in him such flow of emotions.

The housekeeper opened her mouth, hesitating.

Answer! – He roared, losing his patience.

She startled before the impulsivity of his reaction and straight out answered:

A young lady came here that afternoon… She said she was one of your former High School friends. She… She looked so fragile, so troubled, that I invited her to wait for you here.

Her name! – He howled, gritting his teeth – What was her name?

Can… Candice White Andrew, sir…

_Candy! Candy was here!..._

I'm very sorry if I've hurt you with my initiative. But she did not sound like all those hysterical admirers who usually wander around the building. She seemed so sincere regarding you…

His ears bumming, legs and harms shaking, he closed his eyes to avoid seeing the ceiling that was whirling over his head. His body was betraying him and wasn't able to control it anymore.

Why isn't she there anymore? What happened? – He painfully succeeded in spelling.

I had left her alone a few minutes in the lounge. When coming back, she was not there anymore. I surprised then her in your study. She told me that she had been intrigued by the piano that she had recognized…

_The piano from my father's manor… The piano on which I taught her a few notes… She has not forgotten…_

She was crying warm tears! She looked visibly overwhelmed. I quickly understood that it was not the piano that had gotten her in such a state, but that little country-style painting which is next to the library.

Terry's eyes goggled with astonishment.

_The painting about Pony's home. The painting that I bought in a gallery in London, during my last visit to my father's in which I had announced him my decision to renounce to the name of Grandchester. The following morning, as I was on my way back to Southampton Harbor, I couldn't believe it when discovering it. Pony's home in England, in an arts shop! It was incredible! Then I had got introduced to this young painter, John, the painting's author, who had confessed me that he had lived in the orphanage and had very well known Candy ! What an emotion! What a joy!_

_Oh Candy, which thoughts crossed your mind when discovering my secret? What did you feel when seeing that painting of Pony's home, the place that saw you growing up, the place that I had so ardently wished to know when arriving to America? I needed to feel that emotion, that feeling like if I were with you and I maintained it through that painting. I can imagine your confusion and the contradictory feelings that might have invaded you. Knowing that I was still thinking about you without actually going to you. Oh Candy, forgive me!..._

Where is she now? – He asked with a dead voice – She should be there and I don't see her. Where has she gone?

I really tried to keep her but without any result – the housekeeper sighed – Between two sobs, she succeeded in telling me that she did not have the might to stay and she disappeared.

But she didn't tell you anything else? – He cried out, shaking her by her shoulders – Don't you have any idea about the place she might have gone to? Please, try to remember!

The old lady thought a moment then her face lighted up.

When introducing herself, she told me that she was leaving for Europe tonight!

For Europe?

Yes. I guess she's going to travel by boat. Besides, I've read in the newspaper that morning that the liner Le France is presently docked, at the Pier 88, and that she was leaving tonight.

The Pier 88, you said?

If my memory is good, yes.

Hopefully, you could get there before the board…

Miss Denise interrupted herself, speechless. An airstream was the only thing left of Terry, caused by the wide opening of the hall-door, followed by the noise of his hasted steps in the stair….

All along the way to the harbour station, Candy remained immured in a heavy silence, her face turned to the opposite direction, her gaze lost in the emptiness. When Douglas had seen her popping up from the building, in tears and suffocating, he had not asked anything and had settled for boosting the accelerator and leaving the place the quickest possible. He was blaming so much his boss for having entrusted him such a mission! Until the end, he had precisely followed the roadmap that was supposed to end in that district, in which he had to innocently mention the actor's presence. Now, he was understanding the emotion that was troubling his passenger, the one he had guessed from Broadway until here. It might have a relation with that young man. Where did she know him from? They might have been very close to provoke such confusion. Why had she run away from his home then? What had happened to her to get her in such a state?

The anger took possession of him and he started to curse all the ones who had dragged her into that ambush. What was the aim of that unless to make her suffering? What were they expecting form her except a deep distress and endless cries? Why having set up that meeting for, in the following, leaving her in full despair? Try as he might, he could not find any answer to his interrogations. It was then with a deep feeling of powerlessness that he dropped her off before the pier along which was waiting the impressive and luxurious French liner.

Here you are, Miss – he said, pretending enthusiasm.

Candy did not answer, still plunged into her thoughts. Douglas went to open her door and she got off the car without realizing it, like a robot.

I know this is not my business – he added, straight standing in front of her to capture her gaze – But you look so despaired that if I can do anything to help you, please, let me know. I would do anything to ease your pain.

Candy raised too much of tears reddened eyes to him and muttered:

It is very kind of you, Douglas. I'm sorry if I've worried you with my slightly excessive demonstration of emotionalism.

Miss Andrew, come on!...

Do not worry! – She added, proudly raising up her chin – Those tears are almost dried. They are just the result of some painful memories that I thought I had forgotten. You see, it was nothing important!...

As she was saying that, her lips parted into a grin that supposed to be a smile, which did not fool the young Irish.

_That girl is really brave and gifted with an iron will!_

He could vouch for it. He had just seen her, shacked, almost falling down, and she was now fighting to show a happy face, as if the just happened drama had never existed. What an hard life she might have known to strive then to hide her weaknesses!... He wanted to tell her that he was really sorry for her, that she had the right to cry in front of him, because it was natural, that it would be good to her, but he finally opted for an ostrich-like approach. What was the point of going against her will while he was about to leave her on that pier, as son as he would have left her to the care of one of the ship's staff members. Responding her by another smile, he said:

Aaaaah! This smile suits you to a Tee, Miss! Haven't you ever been said that you look much prettier when you smile?

Candy's gaze got turned cloudy again. Noticing her emotion, he blamed himself for his unmeant blunder and chose to shut up to avoid the risk to hurt her again.

Indeed, I've been told that on several occasions… - she hiccupped with a sad smile – But since you are not the first one to say me so, I might end up believing it.

The mischievous tone she had employed to end her phrase, disconcerted him. And as he was leading her to the gangway reserved to the first class passengers, his embarrassment continued. She gave her ticket to the officer who was standing next to the platform, then she turned towards the one who had been her chaperon all along the afternoon, and held out her hand to him.

Dear Douglas, let me thank you for this excellent afternoon. I hope we will be able to see each other again soon and that you'll introduce me to your dear Martha.

Dear Miss – he answered, trying to hide his emotion – It was a great privilege for me to meet you. Let me wish you a very good trip. Let the trade winds bring you joys and serenity.

Thank you very much, Douglas. This is very kind of you. Good-bye then!

She pivoted on her heels and started to walk across the gangway that led to the boat but the driver's singing accent called her back. In two strides, he was in front of her. He took her fragile hands between his, that he had big and strong.

Miss, you might find me very daring but I can't let you go that way. Please, do accept that advise from a simple being like me but who, I think, still has his good sense… I wanted to tell you that... That if two people are made for each other, one day will see fate reuniting them. Love can overcome all obstacles. Keep faith! Don't give up! Promise me!

Candy goggled her eyes with surprise. So much time had elapsed since the last one she had evoked so directly her feelings and sufferings. Quickly, her gaze clouded with tears.

Y…Yes, I promise you to do so, Douglas – she whispered with a trembling chin – Thank you for your care. This is very touching.

Between us, he would be the king of idiots if he were letting you go that way, wouldn't he? – He spontaneously added, carried away by his enthusiasm.

Candy prevented a laugh before her interlocutor's mutinous observation. She really liked Douglas and his clumsiness, so close to her own nature.

You are right, my friend. He would deserve the most beautiful of all crowns – she chuckled, holding back her tears.

She nodded him a last time, then left definitively, hasting her path to avoid a new call back. When reaching the doorway, she turned around and saw Douglas at the other side of the gangway, waving his cap as a farewell. She lowered her head, breathed deeply then stood up back straight, gave her most beautiful smile to the doorman, and disappeared into the ship's belly.

Hurry up, come on, hurry uuuuuuuuuuuuup ! – Was yelling Terry to the taxi driver's ear.

The poor man was driving at breakneck speed in the streets of New York but it still seemed too slow for his passenger. Marcello had been wrong to accept that journey though the young actor had offered him to triple the fare. Because of this, he was now risking his life at each crossing, or even worse, a unfortunate meeting with the policemen who could take him away his driving license, and his license, he really needed it. Arrived from Italy several years before, that job sounded a very good opportunity to him. Indeed, it was hard, painful, but it paid rather well, and above all, it would allow him to make come his little family who had stayed in his native country. It had not been easy to make that sacrifice and leave them, but when you are starving and when that kind of opportunity comes to you, even if it means going abroad, it must be taken. His dear Anna, his little Roberto and his sister Maria would be there with him soon, unless he died because of this berserk client!... Fortunately, the traffic was rather fluid on evening, and he hoped that the Holly Mother who was dangling down at its rear-view mirror would, more than usual, watch over him. He could feel the young man boiling on the rear seat. He could hear him fulminating and swearing like a trooper. What had got in him to be so panicked? That cursed ship was not going to fly off anyway!

Patty must have given my letter to her… - he was thinking innerly, searching answers to all the hundred of questions that were bombarding him – This is why she came. But why did she runaway then? If I had arrived sooner, if… Once again, we've missed each other! Let's hope I arrive on time!

Sighing, he leaned his head against the windowpane and looked at the streets endlessly going by. He was feeling nauseous, oppressed, praying that he hadn't chosen the wrong boat. He had so often been dogged by bad luck that he was yet expecting the worse…. He was so afraid, so afraid of not finding her!

_Please Candy, wait for me!... _

Finally, the huge boathouses of the harbor station pierced the horizon and the taxi driver started again to breath. Pier 92… 90… 88! They were arrived!  
Terry hastily paid him and went out of the car without closing the door behind him. This done, the taxi left with a bang, running away as far as possible from this asylum-escaped one before he changed of mind…

Sitting on her bed, Candy was getting bored to death. Like all first class passenger, her baggage had already been unpacked and meticulously put in the wardrobe. In fact, she did not have anything to do and this really annoyed her, all the more so because Patty hadn't arrived yet. She thought she would have been the latest one, but it seemed that her friend was more zealous than her. She had so much wished she could see her when arriving. It would have prevented her from thinking. Still overwhelmed by what she had just lived, she was feeling like emerging from an endless torpor. Groggy, her mind was having difficulty to connect back with the reality. The intensity of the moment she had just experienced had brought her back to years behind, and the euphoria she had got from it had not erased the bitter taste that remained of this. Discovering that Terry had not healed from his injuries hadn't prevented her from doubting about his feelings for her. He might be nostalgic of a past that was not anymore, to the point of refusing the present with her because of the fear of breaking that part of dream that remained to him and which he had made the best with. Basically, he was may be keeping those memories of their past like relics of an happiness that was gone, to take refuge in it when needed, and avoid to face the reality, that reality which she was a part of. He had visibly renounced to her since long time ago. She was just now a museum piece that he had carefully placed, with intent to never touch it again.

A lump in her throat, shaking her head to chase the new tears that bordered her pretty eyes, she stood up. She was suffocating, she really needed some fresh air!

She was about to leave her luxurious cabin when she heard knocking at the door that communicated with Patty's bedroom.

Candy, are you there? May I come in?

With her forearm, the young woman wiped her recalcitrant tears and rushed to the door that she opened widely. A tousled Patty welcomed her with open arms.

Oh, my dear Candy! I thought I would never be here! – She cried out between two effusions - Guess what, the headmaster kept me until the last time! It was not good my trying to explain him we were now on holidays and that we had two months before us to think about the new school year, he didn't let me go and was always finding something to prevent me from leaving! He knew very well that I had a boat to take, but I suspect him of viciously and voluntarily slowing down my leaving. I've always thought that he looked suspicious but that time, he went beyond what I ever imagined!

The most important now is that you are here! Forget that horrible man and come with me on the deck. According to the engines' noise, I think that the boat is about to leave the harbour.

Patty sighed as she plunged her hand into her hair.

Go forward, I will join you in a few minutes. It has been such a rush to come here that I'm all sweating. I'm going to freshen up and change of dress. I hope you don't mind?

Not at all, my friend. We have all the time we need now to be together. Nevertheless, don't take too much time whether not you might miss the casting off, which must be a real wonder under that sunset.

I promise you to hurry up! See you shortly! – She answered as she closed the door.

Anticipating the freshness on the promenade deck, Candy took a pink silk stole in her wardrobe and covered her shoulders with it, then left her room. Looking at the giant profiles of Manhattan moving away must be a real sight. Yet, tens of people were crowding against the rail and were getting prepared to the handkerchiefs ceremony that supposed them to be waved when the boat would leave. Candy made her way between the crowds and ended by finding a space on the ship's rear deck.

The sea air smelt a mix of fresh paint and sludge. The floor had just been cleaned. Everything was ready for the crossing. She leaned on the balustrade and looked downward with an odd feeling of vertigo. People looked so small on terra firma but she was able to roughly distinguish their features, like for that woman she sensed in tears, strongly pressing against her heart her marine husband who was about to get on board. They both looked so much in love and so sad to leave each other! She envied them so much!

Suddenly, the gangways moved back. The ship quivered, shaking with muffled vibrations. The water began to bubble, the foam that emanated from it was crashing against the steel belly. The funnels were exhaling bunches of vapour clouds under the whistle's piercing scream. Casting off, Le France began to slowly move away from the dock. Arms and handkerchiefs began then to wave, mingled with the farewells. Kisses were sent, "Good-byes" were shouted until vanishing in echo in the surrounding cacophony. Candy felt a twinge of sadness, unable to participate in the rejoicing, and held a little more her stole around her. Indifferent to the crowd's calls that were coming from downstairs, she focused her attention on the skyscrapers band that was silhouetting under the sunset. Oddly, it seemed to her that she was hearing her name. She pricked up her ear, convinced of a mistake. But it happened gain, then once again, and once more. Intrigued, she bent over a little more and what she saw outright cut her breath.

As Terry was getting off the taxi, he heard the ship's whistles that were announcing the imminent departure and anguish invaded him. The boarding hall was immense, and the boat was even bigger. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack on that one-hundred-length dock!

The gangways had just been removed, the huge anchors moved back up. Only were remaining on the dock, the families who were exchanging tearful farewells with the passengers crowding on the decks. He looked up and tried to see among all those unknown faces, that of one who had all along those years haunted his nights. For a long time, he looked for her, his heart startling on several occasions when thinking having recognized her. But it was never she and this began to discourage him. He had wished so much, prayed so much to arrive on time, that he couldn't understand why fate was desperately trying to prevent them from reuniting while he was so close to succeed.

Happened the fateful moment in which the engines started noisily to proceed. Untying its ropes from the moorings, the liner began her untowing. Imperceptibly, she was moving, following the dock's side to move each second a little more away from the New York ground.

_Good Lord! It couldn't happen that way! No, it couldn't!... _

Looking everywhere, scrutinizing every ship's deck, Candy was remaining untraceable, and a wave of despair submerged him. The ship was following his way, irreparably, until outpacing the unfortunate young actor, overwhelmed, exhibiting to him her colossal poop as a final point to his quest. On the brink to give up, he looked up one last time, and dwelled a second on a frail profile that was standing at the end of the upper deck, and that he would have never seen if the ship hadn't outpaced him.

_Oh Lord, Candy!_

She had her haircut, she was standing at a dozen meters above him, but he was able to recognize her between everyone, between thousands more. Without thinking, he began to scream her name with all his might, repeating his calls at every deep breathing. Never ending seconds elapsed and then, as he hoped so, she looked at him. He felt her quivering then pulling herself together, shyly waving her hand at him. Paralyzed by the emotion, his eyes clouding with tears, he stayed for a long time without moving until he realized that the liner had moved away and was accelerating her rhythm.

Terry! Terryyyyyyy! – She cried out, waving more enthusiastically her hand.

How soft the sound of her voice was to his ears, how wonderful it was to hear her again! He had never really left her, he had many times heard her in his dreams, but that time, he was able to savor the delight to touch that reality. She was really on that boat, he could see her, distinguish her wonderful emerald eyes that were staring at him, and guess her tears mixed to the sea sprays. He wished she could see his, but contrary to the ones he had shed on that terrible winter night, almost ten years before, those showed the joy, the intense happiness, bordering on the euphoria. He wanted to say something, something else than her name, but the words were staying mute in his throat. He was unable to produce anything else than incomprehensible gurgles.

_She hasn't changed at all! How beautiful she is! How shorthair suits her well!  
My dear Freckles… I cannot believe you are here, before me! I've missed you so much! I wished I could fly towards you like those sea birds who are flying around above you, and surround you with my harms, feeling your body's heat against mine, and keeping you for ever. _

Le France was progressing towards the sea and would soon outpace the pier. Still running, Terry was following the boat, profiting of the hundred meters more he had, holding Candy's gaze of which he did not want to lose anything. Gazes so mixed and so close, but soon separated, once again, by the ocean. He had to stop though, the sea coming between them both, sending back her waves against the bank and wetting his trousers. Breathless, he looked at Candy's profile which was disappearing little by little, and screamed one more time her name. He seemed to him that he was hearing her answer, but the sound came to him half muffled by the boat's whistles. The one who was leaving, the one who was staying… A new separation but which did not leave that unpleasant taste of bitterness because he knew that they had never been so close and that they will soon make their way together. That time, he won't let her get away from him. That was his promise and nothing would be able to divert him from this.

A flash crackled suddenly behind him. He turned around and received another one square in face. Blind, he moved forward and noticed two men who were bombarding him with their cameras.

Those vultures of photographs would never leave him alone?

The idea to push them into the water crossed his mind. He was imagining the tomorrow tabloids' headlines, with as a bonus, his overwhelmed face. But, oddly that time, the happiest of men couldn't care less!...

Terry! My God! This is Terry! – Candy said to herself, hanging on strongly to the ramp, her legs abandoning her. It was really him behind the boat and who was calling her! She couldn't believe her eyes! What was he doing here? How had he found her?

In spite of the height, she could distinguish his lagoon-colored eyes, which were staring at her, this bewitching gaze that used to make her lose all control. She made a slight gesture toward him, shyly, as if she feared he could vanish before her eyes. As an answer, she received in return his disarming smile and burning tears of joy rolled immediately on her cheeks. Shaking with sobs, her chin trembling, she was looking at his rangy profile proceeding with his run, at the pace of the irremediably ship's progression. He hadn't really changed. He had preserved his beautiful face full of grace and improved by maturity. His shoulders had broadened out. He looked having grown up. The teenager she had known and loved had changed into a man, and that new appearance of him wondered her. She would so much have liked to curl up into the hollow of his reassuring arms, feel his brown locks caressing her face, listen to his heartbeats against her chest. Was it beating as fast as hers, hurtfully, foolishly?

Terry! Terryyyyyyyy! – She cried out, waving more heartily her arm.

Gazed mixing, hands so close, she thought that as holding further her arm she could touch him, feeling the soft contact of his skin against her fingers' pulp.

_Oh Terry, my love, you haven't forgotten me then? What a pain it is to see you so close and so far! When will we stop getting tortured that way? Are we eternally bound to get reunited and separated? Tell me that all of this is not just a beautiful dream and that, when I wake up, I will be comforted about the reality of that moment!..._

The boat left definitively the pier, indifferent and implacable, forcing the young man to stop his run. She would have wanted to stop time to keep him one more moment. She did not want to be separated from him, not like this, so quickly!

The one who was leaving, the one who was staying… Oddly, the roles were being reversed. That time, the one who was standing on the pier, was him. He yelled one last time her name, which came to her muffled by the high offshore winds and the seamen's shouts. In turn, she called him but the whistles' screech reduced mostly its earshot. She looked at his direction until the distance erases his aristocratic profile and become nothing than a tiny point in the horizon, that she stared during long minutes until realizing that they had left the bay and that they were approaching the high seas. Oddly, a feeling of calm and serenity invaded her. She knew in the bottom of her heart that it was only a good-bye, that the untied hands will get tied again, that gazes will mix again with each other. Soon, very soon…

Patty's shivering voice behind her brought her back to reality.

Brrrr! I should have done like you and wore a woolly before coming here! I didn't imagine that it would be so quickly cold in the high seas!

Candy offered to her friend a vaguely gaze. Few minutes before, she was drowning into Terry's. She was having difficulty to recover her mind.

Forgive-me for not having joined you sooner. It was so good to luxuriate in that bath, far from the exigencies of my horrible boss, that I didn't notice time elapsing… Well… You look very thoughtful!... Was this casting off as extraordinary as it all?

A sibylline smile appeared on the young blonde's lips.

You wouldn't believe it, my dear Patty, you really wouldn't…

End of chapter 3

September 2011

Fin du chapitre 3

© Leia septembre 2011


	4. Chapter 4

Letters to Juliet

Chapter 4

Sitting in the sunroom of his Boston luxurious residence, William Albert Andrew put back his cup of coffee on the white-coated table on which was waiting a substantial breakfast. He opened the morning newspaper and began to turn few pages. He ended by stopping on one in particular, and a smile of satisfaction appeared on his slips. That time, he was not interested by the stock prices but by an article devoted to a certain young comedian whom he had very well known in the past. The said article headlines said: « TERRENCE GRAHAM IN LOVE! », followed with a fly-on picture of Terry. The troubled look he displayed did not leave any doubt on the veracity of the journalist's indiscrete revelation. Albert was exulting while reading the tell that detailed the event:

"Ladies, wear you dark veils and take out your handkerchiefs, the young comedian, the Broadway star, the one who makes faint hundreds of admirers on each of his appearances, Terrence Graham, is IN LOVE! Yesterday, on the end of the day, on the pier 88 of the Manhattan harbour station, as we were following for our newspaper the Russian countess Anastasia Pavlovitch's trip, the unusual behaviour of a person who seemed to us familiar, caught our attention. We quickly recognized the famous comedian in this person who was running after the boat Le France and who was belting out as he sent desperate signs to a young unknown woman, passenger on the ship. In front of our dumbfounded eyes, we've attended a display of cries and shouts of joy, a real change to which we were not used to. We can testify this: the _sad-faced-actor_ is able to have feelings! He looked so happy that he did not even try to throw our cameras to the sea. We attempted to ask him some questions but he eluded them with an eloquent smile then left the station with a cheerful path. Obviously, we immediately looked for the identity of that Miss "Candy", whose name had been pronounced by him several times. We suspected that she was the same person who had been evoked few weeks before during his visit at Nightingale-Bradford College, visit that had turned into a scandal and led the sudden leaving of the young actor. (_see our article of april…_). After consulting the French shipping company, we did not find any person named Candy, but a certain "Candice White Andrew, heir of a rich family of Chicago. We've been able to get in touch with a member of her family who lives in New York, her cousin, Eliza Leagan, who just got engaged with the wealthy weapons dealer, August Withmore. That latter seems to have an opinion very severe opinion regarding her cousin:

"_Miss Andrew is a fortune-hunter! She seduced Mr. Graham during their studies in England, then, she became infatuated with my Brother, Niel, who got the good sense to cancel their engagement before it was too late. She is a devious person who had been able to ingratiate our Great Uncle who adopted her. I bemoan the fact that Terrence Graham fell again into the affective trap she set for him. He will regret it bitterly. She brings misery wherever she goes. Besides, she is at the origin of my young cousin's decease, Anthony Brown and she…"_

It was enough! Albert, enraged, threw the newspaper on the ground. That Eliza will see it coming! That girl was a real pain, an endless source of evilness! She could not prevent herself from shamefully lying about Candy! He had always felt little esteem for her but he had to admit that it was not contempt that he felt for her now but a real aversion, a disgust for everything she represented: her mediocrity of mind, her awkwardness, her vanity, that her perverse soul maintained narcissistically until leaving behind her, sickening mud that revolted him and made him ashamed. Ashamed above all , for sooner having not put an end to her malfeasances. Him, who had always tried to keep the balance into the family, was realizing, may be a bit too late, the unrecoverable nature of his cousin. Several times, he had given her a chance, but what she had just said in the newspaper had sealed her fate.

His appetite ruined by what he had just read, he left his breakfast and walked to his office with the aim to phone his far-too-much-zealous cousin. It was high time for him to make her understand to leave Candy alone if she did not want to incur his wraths. He was even disposed to the supreme punishment: the definitive exclusion from the family! He did not even care the Great-Aunt could chock with rage. Candy did not deserve such treatment. The Leagan and consorts would have to make their mind to it or renounce to their privileges. His decision was without appeal!

Nevertheless, he should have had expect such violent reaction from Eliza, who always had had a soft spot for Terry. She might have had suffocated with jealousy when the journalist had told about the lovers' reencounter. She had so much done to separate them at Saint-Paul. He regretted that Candy's honour was dirtied by such evil-minded person and reproached to himself his lack of vigilance. Patty, Annie and him had so much struggled to prepare in the best conditions that reencounter that he had completely occulted that pest of Eliza. She was not ready to recover from the serious explanation he will have with her!

Besides this, he was very satisfied of what he had accomplished, and this, thanks to the collaboration of several people. The result was worthy of a secret service's organization:

First of all, Annie, who had given to him very useful advises. Then Patty, who, in spite of her extreme shyness, had been able to face Terry and make him crack. Then this very faithful Irish chauffeur, Douglas. Without letting him into the secret, he had made him understood that his mission could sound incongruous to him but had to be brought to fruition until the end. The success of his plan depended a lot on him. That latter had accomplished his task to the perfection without Candy noticed anything. That in-depth visit of New-York had been imagined to wake up in her, little by little, feelings deeply buried, and provoke an electroshock. The result had been very convincing. But it would have never happened without the help of a last person: Miss Denise, Terry's housekeeper. Albert was aware, thanks to his informants, that this latter liked a lot her boss and that she was despairing to see him so miserable. Then, a morning, he had come and meet her while she was going out for shopping. He had introduced him to her, then, in front of cup of tea in the next Italian restaurant, he had explained to her the situation.

In two days, in the end of the afternoon, a young and ravishing lady will come to you. Her name is Candice White Andrew. If you want Mr Graham's happiness, it would be very clever to be very kind with her. It is very important that she sees the place in which he lives. But, above all, be sure that he won't be there. Do you think you would be able to move him away from his home?

Mr Graham is presently in rehearsals and he comes back home very late. This would not seem to be a problem.

This is perfect then! This young lady will take a boat for Europe the same day and I would like that the hazard informs him about her visit. I don't want him to have any doubts. Then, let him act. I want him to fight to get her back and I'm sure it is what he will do.

The housekeeper, incredulous, had examined her interlocutor, searching the fail that would lead her to refuse his project. But Albert's frank and benevolent gaze had reassured her.

Sir, I have been powerlessly attending that young man's suffering for years. If you promise me that you are offering him happiness, I will endeavour to make this happen.

I don't need to promise you anything, dear Miss. I am certain of that! Those two beings love deeply each other. They were born to live together and it is high time that they understand it.

They had talked for a while to agree about some details, then parted while whishing to each other good luck. Albert was convinced that luck did not have anything to do with this. Destiny only needed to be forced. The obtained result had exceeded his expectations! He knew that Candy would have never been able to resist to the temptation to come closer from Terry's home, which would have overwhelmed her. As for Terry, he had imagined him coming back home in the evening and discovering Candy's visit, but he would have never thought he would have been able to meet her back at the harbour. He was exulting! The contact between his two charges was relinked, only remained to them to make a path towards each other. He guessed that they would endeavour to be reunited.

He sighed with joy as he pushed his office's door. George, a smile of complicity to the corner of his lips, was standing next to the desk, holding the telephone receiver.

- A call for you, Sir. This is Terrence Graham…

Douglas O' Loughlin left his girlfriend's apartment in a hurry. He had passed a bad night. The events of the day had passably perturbed his sleep, and he had finally fallen asleep in the early morning only. Martha, who used to have a deep sleep, had not awakened either, and the streets noises were already manifesting vividly under their window as they finally opened the eyes. Realising the late hour, he had jumped from his bed as quickly as a flash, freshened up, gotten dressed at the same speed, not without having laid a kiss on her beloved's pulpous lips, languishing on their bed.

Reaching the street, he ran to his car, hoping that at the office, they would not bear him a grudge for his delay. During Albert's absence, he used to become the chauffeur of the company's high white-collars, unfortunately less indulgent than his original boss. He crossed the city at a spanking pace, several times missing nearly an accident and finally stopped in Wall Street's quarter, in front of the building which hosted the Andrew, Cornwell & Brown Corporation's offices. He took the stairs four at a time and walked immediately toward the secretary's office in charge of his diary.

Hello Maggie, sorry to be late – he said, breathless – Any missions for me that morning?

Lost in the reading of a newspaper, the curl-haired brunette did not answer.

Maggie ?

The assistant ended up raising her head, and wiped with a handkerchief, a big tear that pearled under her bifocals.

What's wrong, Maggie? – asked the chauffeur, worried about his colleague's distress.

As an answer, she cried even harder and ran away to the toilets. Aback, he bent over the desk, took the newspaper and searched for the article that troubled so deeply the poor Maggie. As he read the title, he let escape a sigh of relief.

He finally found you, Miss! – he said to himself, a comforting warmth enveloping his heart. He had so much worry about his pretty passenger that this happy news was fulfilling him with joy. Controlling with difficulty his euphoria, he could not retain a blissful smile that unfortunately crossed the secretary's grinning face who had just come back. Noticing his contentment, she moaned even more and went back to her hiding place. He stood few seconds transfixed, then ensconced himself in the armchair that faced the desk, and waited patiently for the storm to pass. The reading of a certain article would help him to kill time, and it was with the real satisfaction of a well-done job that he plunged back in it with delectation…

Terry was ramping. After looking into the matter at the sailing company, he had just learnt that the next boat to Europe would not leave before two days, and this really depressed him. He had left Candy the day before and he could not stand the idea of losing the least day to meet her back. Whatever he could do, he would have to face the facts: she would always be ahead of him, and it was to him to try and shorten the distance that separated them.

That present morning, he had called Albert and begged him to tell him Candy's destination. That latter had welcomed him warmly, but had also hastened to warn him: joining back Candy would not be an easy task and he did not intend to make things easier for him.

You must understand, Terry. Candy has too much suffered. I don't want to take the risk of a new disillusion. You'll have to fight to get her back. She is like a jewel, precious and delicate, a treasure that has to be earned. I will only give to you a name: Venice. If you really love her, you'll find her back. But, above all… Do not disappoint me!...

Surprised, Terry had muttered few words of thanks and had hung up. A strange feeling melted with anguish and anger had invaded him. Anguish, because he was feeling lost before so little indications that were supposed to lead him to Candy, and anger to have to prove the sincerity of his feelings. How could Albert doubt so easily his good faith while his life was only despair and desolation since their break-up? How could he let him go that way for a wide travel, with one only thing, the name of a town in which he had never been? Venice, the city of lovers… A real strange destination that suggested a happy conclusion: their reencounter! He did not have any doubt about this and he would prove to Albert what he was able to do, even though he may spend his life searching her.

But for the moment, in spite of the conviction he would demonstrate, his unfortunate situation was complicating his good will. Leaned upon the low wall of his terrace, he was looking at the Hudson River that was moving along away and flowing into Manhattan Bay. The foghorn of a cargo ship came to him then, and a brilliant idea crossed his mind. If a cruise ship would not leave for Europe today, it should be certainly a different matter for freight cargoes! But they still had to accept to take him on board… But he had muscles under his svelte silhouette. He was able also to swear until make blush a chorus of nuns, smoke like a chimney, and drink like a fish if necessary. Without a moment's thought, he prepared his pack, then wrote a letter for his mother who was on tour in the whole country, and another one for Robert Hathaway, the theatre company's director. In his letters, he was explaining the reasons of his sudden leave. He hoped that this latter would not bear him a grudge for leaving him in full preparation of their future show, and that he would not fire him from the troupe. But he was disposed to take the risk of it. Since his meeting with Candy, everything looked hollow to him. If this meant the renouncing of his carrier, he accepted it, as long as he finds back his beloved, the sooner possible!

Upon leaving, he handed the letters to his housekeeper, who insisted that he took a paper bag that contained a meal she had just prepared for him.

You must save your forces to find her, Sir. – she said with a shaking voice, as she buried the bag in his pack.

Thank you, Denise. You are an angel – did Terry, as troubled as she.

He gave a hint of an outstretched hand to her, that she seized shyly. But as he was passing the doorstep, she drew him to her and pressed him strongly against her heart, as she would have done with her own child. She finally stepped back, with her eyes full of tears.

Take care, Sir. I will pray for your safe travel and I wish you to be both reunited as soon as possible. Good luck!

Moved, Terry thanked her a last time then disappeared in the lift. He leaned against the metallic wall and closed his eyes, sighing. He was leaving for the unknown, he did not know how he was going to behave, but he was delighted to be on the way that would lead him to Candy, freed of his fetters that shackled him. He was so eager to live that blessed day that would reunite them both. Because of this, he hadn't sleep all night and he knew already that his sleep would be all along very light. Happiness was at last within reach and he intended to appreciate any of its least instants.

As arriving in the street, he hailed a taxi which drove him the harbour of freight. Then, provided with his whole courage, taking a deep breath, he walked up the pier, his heart full of hope.

A sailor, leaning against a docking post, was smoking a cigarette.

You should go and see at the café behind you – he moaned as he spitted a piece of tobacco leaf – This is the place in which are negotiated this kind of transactions. If you have money, you'll find someone without any problem.

The place was passably smoked out. Many people were standing around tables, engaged in drinking a beer, reading a newspaper or playing cards. They looked up as the young actor came in and giggles came from all sides. Though he had carefully got simply dressed, he obviously did not have the sailor look. Sun and sea sprays had not tanned his skin, his hands were not horny for having too much pulled ropes, and his nails were not darkened by the sludge. Feeling uncomfortable, he walked to the bar and explained his situation to the barman. While getting on wiping glasses, that latter pointed with his head a four peopled table, with little encouraging faces, in full poker play. Apprehensively, he went closer.

Excuse me…

Don't you see you are bothering us, man?!... – Grumbled one of the players, frowning malevolently. The others around the table were getting on playing as if nothing happened and were ignoring him. It was not very welcoming as a way in, but Terry did not let himself get discouraged.

Let me insist! – He said with a firmer tone. They were visibly testing him and he intended to make them understand that they were not dealing with a snobbish who wanted to show off on the docks. Anyway, when coming to scrap, he was an expert. He had not been practicing it for a while, but he didn't really mind a good fight. This would remind him of the good old days.

I think I haven't been clear enough with you!... – did the sailor, infuriated, laying back his cards on the green baize. He stood up, thrusting out his massive build, overhanging of one head the young actor, who did not get troubled. His love for Candy was giving him bravery to spare!

To the contrary, you've been very clear! And if you prefer we talk about this outside, I'm your man!

No need to go outside, moron! - Cried out the colossus, throwing him an uppercut that made him toppling over few meters behind, tipping over a chair on his way.

Holding proudly his fits on his hips, he was looking him up and down, chuckling with a raucous and nasty laugh that showed the bad state of his clogged lungs. Still groggy, shaking his head to recover his minds, Terry got up, and painfully stood ready to fight. But he quickly realized that he had far too much overestimated himself. In spite of all his courage, winning through that mountain of muscles sounded improbable. One punch only had already half-knocked him out, the next one had all chances to be fatal for him. He should as well face his destiny with panache! Most of his ancestors had died fighting. He was not going to fail in the custom. Fists forward, legs apart, he faced his gigantic adversary who was dangerously coming closer, growling like a beast.

A clout wasn't enough to you!... – he cried out, raising a threatening hand, as big as a beater.

It was almost falling down on him when a voice coming from the back of the room, interrupted it in its swing.

If I were you, Youri, I would stop my silliness now!...

Huh? What? – Lowed the Hungarian giant, searching in all directions the careless troublesome. He finally saw him, hidden in the darkness, sitting on a chair half-leaning against the wall, a cap covering up his face.

What it's got to do with you? – He howled, moving his big ogre feet until him.

The foolhardy or unconscious person didn't look impressed, lifting with his forefinger the corner of his cap and followed:

I'm just telling you, brainless-bully, that if you want to be cursed for the rest of your life by the one whose pictures cover your cabin, please, get on smashing her son's face!

To those words, the maniac's fist fell down as fast as he had risen. That latter turned to Terry, dazed. He walked back to the young actor, who, with a survival instinct, stepped back immediately. He looked at him carefully during few seconds, put his big drunken noise before his, that he had aesthetically perfect.

What my friend over there said is right? You are Eleanor Baker's son?

Yes, indeed, sir, I'm her son – Terry heard himself mumbling as he wondered if he hadn't fallen into the crazies'.

Out of the corner of his eye, he was trying to distinguish the cap-headed man's face, but could not perceived much. This is when the Hungarian dealt him a strong hint in the back that made him knock over three meters further.

hahaha! My word! Eleanor Baker's son! This is unbelievable!

The muscle man's face had lightened up with a big smile that lifted the scare that barred his right eye. His voice became softer.

You couldn't tell us that when you arrived?

Tell what? – Terry said, bending in two, hands on his tights, as he tried to recover his breath – "Hello, I'm Eleanor Baker's son!" Do you think this is the way I use to introduce myself?

The bull wasn't listening to him. One thing only obsessed him: Eleanor Baker, the most popular actress of America, the one who had broken his heart, since his gaze had laid itself on one of her theatre posters, many years before.

You have no idea! – He said, holding Terry's hand and shaking it until almost dislocating his shoulder, squeezing it so strongly that the young man could not retain a shout – I'm a big admirer of your mother! I've even been to see her in Broadway!

Terry stayed petrified with stupefaction. Five minutes before, that savage was jumping on him, determined to crush him, and he was now standing before him, as meek as a lamb, addressing to him politely, cooing and batting his eye lashings.

Do you think you could get me an autograph of your mother, Mister Baker? – he asked, imploring.

O…Of course… As soon as I see her again… - Terry mumbled, without understanding yet that turnaround. He was even more surprised to be called by his mother's last name. Him, who had chosen the name of Graham to avoid any reproaches about his filiation with his parents, thought it was comical. But he did not want to take the risk to contradict him.

Oh, Thank you! Thank you! – cried out the muscle man, pressing his new friend against him, jumping up and down until making crack the floor and shake the furniture.

Then, he wrapped his huge arm around the young man's shoulders and offered him a seat at his table.

I hope you don't hold against me for having been teasing with you – he said, chuckling with embarrassment, as he motioned to the barman to bring them beers. – My roughly sense of humour is sometimes misunderstood…

Of course, I'm not very familiar with Hungarian humour… - Terry answered, disconcerted.

_Teasing!... He almost smashed my head, and he was calling that tease?_

Let's then drink the glass of peace, mister Baker! – Cried out Youri as he raised to him his beer-filled mug.

Terry hesitated for an instant, then ended accepting the invitation. The two men clinked glasses, joined by the whole table. The surrounding rumpus had taken back the upper hand over the heavy silence that had settled during the fight. Terry drank few gulps, smiling nervously. One thing obsessed him: the cap-headed man's identity. Unable to wait any longer, he apologized to Youri and his friends, stoop up and walked towards the intriguing person who had not moved from his place. Upon arriving in front of him, he observed him for a while, searching the least indices that would allow its identification. He looked young, medium sized, but he still remained unknown to him though that latter seemed to know a lot about him. Irritated, he asked him:

You seem to know me very well, sir. Can you tell me whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?

Hahahaha! – Laughed the unknown, shaking on his chair – You didn't change at all, dude! Still your nob airs!

I don't allow you to speak to me that way, sir! – Cried out Terry, offended by such familiarity.

Furious, he snatched his cap. He wanted to see the face of the one who was so outrageously laughing at him. As he discovered his interlocutor's sketches, he stood flabbergasted. Those big black eyes which were mischievously looking at him, this mocking smile, those red hair, everything reminded him of a young boy he had met in another life, on the piers of Southampton harbour, the day when he had left Saint-Paul Academy to go to America. Step by step, he was getting back his memory.

Oh Lord! Cookie!

It really took you long time to recognize me! – exclaimed the young seaman, bursting out laughing – Ah Terry, I could never have imagined meeting you there!

The two young men warmly gripped each other, guffawing, under the dazed gaze of the bar's clients.

You really didn't change at all! I've left a kid and I find a man! – cried out Terry, stepping back to better detail his friend.

Well, when we met, you were not so much older than me, you know. I was already 15!

Really?... You're right… Effectively, I was not so much older. Pfewwwww! Indeed, we were some young adventurers!

And we did well finally, didn't we? You became a great star and I, I travel all over the seas like I've ever dreamed to. It sounds like we've succeeded in life!

Terry nodded sadly, little convinced by his friend's remark. How could he tell him that his life wasn't as perfect as it seemed.

But Terry, tell me. What are you doing here? You did not come to the harbour to fight like cat and dog?

Actually, no…- he answered, rubbing his still-painful chin – I'd like to take a boat for Europe as soon as possible.

Well… You haven't gone and seen at the sailing company ?

Yes, I've been there, but the next boat only leave in two days, and I can't wait so long!

Cookie was looking at him, trying to understand. Then suddenly, an impish smile grinned his face.

My friend, you must have a good reason to be in such a hurry to leave. And I would not be surprised to learn that there is a girl below this…

It's a bit of it, yes… - did the young actor, blushing, rubbing his neck with embarrassment.

Don't tell me it's again about that pretty blonde whom you were, on that time, crazy about? Hold on… Candy, am I right?

Yes, indeed, it's her! You really have a good memory!

I've to admit she was really pretty.

Did I describe you so well?

Oh yes, and all night long!- he answered, laughing- But I was even more convinced of it when seeing her in the flesh!...

Terry was looking at him, mouth wide-open, eyes rounded with surprise. The young sailor, meanwhile, was getting a wicked pleasure playing mystery.

Explain yourself, Cookie! How do you know Candy?

Cookie waited few seconds to answer, enjoying himself with his friend's astonished face.

It is a small world, isn't it? Guess what, we met on Southampton Harbour, few days after your leaving. As I wanted too, she was searching for going to America. And as we were both without any money, we travelled illegally.

Illegally? – cried out Terry, a shiver of anxiety running up along his body – I did not know Candy had to take so many risks to go back to America!

That girl is resourceful! She amazed me on several occasions!

It sounds crazy, but it looks like her so much! Nothing has ever frightened her, neither made her step back, even if it meant travelling in the back of a hold! Ah Candy, my beloved, what weren't you capable of to get what you want?

Cookie shook his friend's arm, who, an absent smile on the lips, was daydreaming like a blissful one.

I see she really has bewitched you! – he did, laughing as he aped his beatific smile. Terry nodded in agreement, chuckling with a candid air.

Bewitched and made idiot! – Cookie followed maliciously.

Against all odds, Terry shrugged off. He did not intend to contradict him. Loving Candy was making him euphoric, and if it had to be taken for craziness, he did not mind at all. For him, it was synonym to congratulation.

Two seats had just become available at the bar, and with a head signal, Cookie invited him to follow him. Each one sat down on a stool, then ordered a beer to the bartender who served them two very fizzy drinking-mugs. Terry, for the second time in few minutes, clinked. Both mugs hit cheerfully each other, and a little of beer tipped over the edge. They brought the dark and thick beverage to their lips, and Irish one, with strong flavours of caramel, named Guinness. Though lover of big and malted Scottish beers, he could not deny their gustative qualities, but refrained from saying it, by pure Scottish chauvinism. Cookie swallowed his as it was a simple glass of water, then put it back on the bar with a burp of satisfaction. He had visibly adapted himself very well to the sailing manners and scrupulously followed them. His thirst quenched, he came back to their talk.

I know how secretive you are, Terry, but you can't hide me anything. Why do you want to go to Europe? I was sure you would finally be together. This is why she was going to America. What did happen, my friend?

That's a long story!...- sadly sighed Terry, unconsciously playing with a matchbox – Our paths crossed each other several times, but we haven't been able to be reunited. A dramatic event prevented us from this…

This might have really been terrible to have the power to separate you both. She loved you so much!

With a lump in his throat, Terry lowered his head and stared at his beer to hide the tears that were waving on the edge of his eyes. It was very painful for him to recall that period of time. In spite of the years, he had not gotten used to it. He had lived all those years without her like a real torture. All his hopes of happiness ruined in a second… On that time, he so much wish he had died under the fall of that spotlight rather than having to live all those years without her, alongside someone whom he did not have any feelings for but indifference. She was dead now. May she rest in peace… But he wasn't more cured of his wounds. Was he really made for happiness, him, that misfortune had been hounding permanently. Only an angel was able to put an end to that malediction, a blond angel with a nose dotted with freckles, and who would climb trees like a squirrel.

Candy… - he muttered, sighing sadly.

A comforting hand came and alighted on his shoulder.

You'll find her, Terry. Keep the faith… In few days, you'll be with her. Be patient. What are few days compared to the lost years far from her?

I don't even know where to find her… - he moaned, plunging his head in his hands – I've got only the name of a town and I've to deal with that. Venice…

Venice? Well, this is more romantic than Dunkerque! I wish I had the chance to look for my ladylove in the alleys of that beautiful city! But I should get one first… That's enough joking for now. Let's focus on your case… You see that man who is smoking a pipe at Youri's table? He is the captain of the boat on which I work. You are lucky, we are leaving tonight for Europe, I mean, England. This is not Italy, but it will move you closer…

I could maybe wait for another boat… - offered Terry, disappointed for such bad luck.

You could, of course, but to my knowledge, the next one for Italy won't leave before several days. When arriving in Southampton, you'll be able to take a shuttle which will bring you to France, and from there, you'll be able to take the first train towards the south. You'll see Venice sooner than you think.

Terry was silently listening to him, with a sceptical air.

Our boat is half-loaded that time. She will sail much faster than usual. We could have waited several days until her full loading, but it would have cost more money to stay docked because of the harbour charges. You know, if needed, we might arrive before Candy.

I'd like so much to believe you – said Terry, sighing – But destiny turns against me and I bet it's been again preparing me something to prevent me from finding her.

It won't happen as long as you stay by your pal's sides, Cookie ! My friends nicknamed me "Lucky", that must mean something!

Terry gave a hint of smile before the efforts of conviction expended by his friend.

Do you think then that your captain will accept me on board? I can pay, you know.

Tssss, tssss! This is not the most important thing, though I don't see him refusing some notes… But above all, we need arms, and some sea exercises will be very good to you. You look peaky and skinny… If Candy sees you with that look, she will runaway!

I'll try then to keep her!... – Terry answered, laughing – I'm not afraid of working, Cookie, and I would be very pleased to help you during that crossing.

Fine, man! Let's close all of this with the captain. Since now, you're a member of the Gull's crew. But avoid upsetting Youri, he's hotheaded!...

In spite of Cookie's wink, Terry's stomach almost turned. Knowing that he would have to be in contact, during several days, with Youri-the-terrible, did not exactly thrill him, but if he needed to do this to find quicker his pretty Candy, he accepted his fate without balking. He was eager to leave, eager to feel the heave balancing the boat, eager to sail towards Candy and join her at the City of the Doges, the Italian setting that would attend their reencounter. Nevertheless, he wondered, as they were approaching Youri's table and feeling his big hand coming friendly to smash his back, how he was going to arrive at destination without being lame or disfigured. The big brute's predatory smile did not reassure him at all, but he gave his smile back to him, keeping a shout of pain, under his traitor of a friend's enjoying smile, who was trying to not burst out of laughing.

Candy's first night was very troubled. She couldn't get used to the pitching and rolling. But in reality, she was unable to sleep a wink, too much obsessed she was for what she had just lived.

_Terry !…._

She had seen Terry again! And in spite of the certitude of having seen him well and truly, she could not prevent her from doubting it. All along those years, she had forced herself to forget him, to stay far from him. And suddenly, everything had changed all over! He would spring out from the crowd, call her name, run after the boat which took her! She felt like if that long and painful period of time without him had disappeared, like if it had never existed, like if they had never been separated… She could just close her eyes and see his wonderful smile again, his bewitching aqua-marina eyes, his beautiful face beaming with joy, such unusual expression from him that she was still recovering from this. Terry had moved to the port for her. Then, could she hope that she was still meaning something to him? In spite of the evidence, she remained in her doubts and kept that inconsistency by voluntarily omitting to tell Patty about it. Despite the intense joy that was living in her, she refused to tell her what had happened. What is the point of annoying her friend with a story that might get no following? To sum up, Terry could have been on the port by accident and his presence could have had nothing to do with her… Once again, doubt overwhelmed her and she sighed sadly, hoping that sleep would come to relieve her from those negative thoughts that were harassing her.

She only fell asleep of exhaustion in the early hours, but her rest was of short duration. The boat was waking up in the rhythm of the sunrise, with her machines' noises and her staff who was walking along the corridors. Then, little by little, the rooms' doors began to slam, the kids' shouts to spread over, finishing pulling her out of her sleep. Drowsy, she went to draw the curtains that hid the wide porthole of her bedroom, and received in full face the blinding light of a blazing sun. She closed her eyes and remained a moment under the invigorating heat, but when opening them to look at the ocean, she had to turn her head to the other side because the waves' movement across the opening disturbed her until unbalancing her. She was also very hungry for having been unable to eat since the day before. A very good breakfast would invigorate her. There was something with her that could never change: her stomach that was able to deal with her emotions. But that time, it would be more difficult because what was gnawing her was not hunger. Those butterflies that were moving in her belly had nothing to do with her appetite. She suspected that this strange and unpleasant feeling would accompany her as long as her mind is not straight. But how to remain serene while all her being was burning with the desire to see Terry again? According to her calculation, the journey to Le Havre was going to last around ten days. When arriving, even if she immediately took another boat to return to America, she would not be back home anyway before three weeks. Even more, she could not leave alone Patty who relied on her. No, she absolutely had to bring herself to wait six weeks to see him again and to sweat out. It was another reason to remain silent about it to prevent Patty from feeling guilty, whether not she would be able to force her to leave. Now, she had to devote to her girlfriend, appreciate the chance she had to be happy in her heart, and fulfilled in friendship. For the first time since years, Candy could feel a sincere and comforting joy, freed from any pretence. She did not have to simulate anymore. She was really happy and she really intended to appreciate any thrills from this until her comeback to America.

Until now, the crossing had unfolded perfectly. The Gull, supported by a clement weather, was sailing in a good rhythm, so well that Cookie's forecasts seemed to be fulfilled. Without any change of the weather, they would be able to see the British coasts soon, and Terry had all difficulties to hide his eagerness. Yet, one's could not say that he was bored on the boat. Though he was not a sailor, he had been assigned to some tasks of hull maintenance, which meant: sanding, cleaning, screwing, covering the pernicious rust with paint that on and on eroded the metal. Each morning, since the sunrise, after breakfast, dressed with his coveralls, he used to climb the 20 meters high open-air stairs that separated him from his cabin, then, used to start working and only stopped when the cooker rang the bell that announced the meal. On evening, they used to eat all together in the dining room, laughing and sharing the stories of their lives, often exiting and moving. Then, Youri the music lover, used to sing songs of his country, his Slavic accent, strong and lyrical, taking them, within few notes, towards faraway lands, proud and wild. Actually, Youri was not a bad guy and Terry had ended up liking him, as he had got attached to all his fellows of journey, some strapping but nice men, who did not have a simple life. They used to go back home twice a year only, and used to spend the rest of the time on the boat. During the crossing, alongside those men who never complained, Terry understood how privileged he was and promised to himself that he would never complain again about his fate. Contrary to the appearances, his job was not so easy. It demanded to work hard, a lot of concentration, perfection, but the rewards he used to receive in return seemed very exaggerated to him, up to the limit of indecency compared to what he could witness here. Those men will never be adulated, glorified when arriving at the port, though they would have crossed the sea, faced storms to bring back goods eagerly waited for. While he was paid astronomical amounts to get on stage and tell words, with very much talent of course, but did it deserve such veneration? He envied those men who would stick together when one of them was not very fine, while he was only surrounded with people who dreamed to take his place, who criticized him, to such a point that he always felt in a situation of competition, as he always had to prove something at each one of his appearances. But innerly, he knew that he would never change that for nothing in the world, because his love for theatre exceeded all those deviousness. The passion that lived inside him had been his best friend all along the sordid years he had gone through. It had helped him to go on living though he had lost the taste of it, it had accompanied him, faithful and discrete, and he wondered what would have happened to him if he had not had it. But, for the first time here, he wasn't feeling alone, he was realizing that he was able to get friends, good fellows who did not see in him the famous artist, but a simple young man who had invented an armour to better protect himself from the tragedies of his life, and who, little by little, was letting fall his last defences and letting aside his arrogance. Cookie used to share his cabin with him, and very often, before sleeping, they used to tell each other some moments of their life. Paradoxically, Terry, usually little talkative, loved to confide to him, and was full of stories about Saint-Paul Academy and the big times in which he had teased Candy. Cookie, then, used to go into memorable bursts of laugher that he suppressed quickly as someone used to knock against the wall because of the noise. But, most of the time, they used to fall asleep in full conversation, overcome with exhaustion.

Terry's life on the boat was elapsing peacefully. For his safety, some places were forbidden to him, like the mooring deck, on departure and on arrival. For that matter, Cookie had brought him back some frightening anecdotes, like that former colleague who had his leg cut by a brutal comeback of the mooring-rope, or that other one who had the finger's extremity cut off, caught between the heavy ship's doors. In those rare occasions, he used to go to the wheelhouse from which there was the best view of the whole boat. The controlling machines were rather rudimentary, but did not prevent from fascinating him, admiring towards the captain and his officers' know-how, able to locate themselves in the sea with simple maps, papers, pens and compass. Sometimes, when reaching a moment of pause, he liked searching for some air of the open sea and for this, he had to follow a narrow bridge above the emptiness, and get the external bridge. From there, he dominated the load and the horizon. He liked coming and seating in the front, the wind hitting his face, his long brown locks flogging his face that had lost his paleness and got a pretty golden colour that emphasized the glaze of his turquoise big eyes. But what he liked the most was the show that was waiting for him at that place: the painters' ballet, hung in the air on swings that were attached to the rail, putting another coat of paint on the cargo's hull. That evoked him the New-York skyscrapers workmen, who, besides being good workers, had mainly to be good climbers and good equilibrists. Terry, because of his lack of experience, did not have the right to participate in those works, but he envied those sailor men who could freely swing themselves along the hull, refreshed by the spoondrifts and followed by the sea birds.

But that night, the sea wanted to impress them. The sun had run away, the sky had quickly clouded, the air had gotten fresher, and the horizon was narrowing little by little.

- Hummmmmmm… We're going to have a very good storm! – said Cookie as they were getting in.

With his lips covered with the salt washed up by the sea air, that sticky salt that stuck to the shoes and that squeezed every where in the boat, Terry went to have a quick shower and wear something clean before staying up becomes impossible because of the eddies. As he joined back his fellows to the dining room that was also the resting room, the swell ripples were getting more vigorous. The boat was shaking. Terry sat down in a corner and tried to read a book, but he had to give up quickly as the pitching was turning his stomach. Outside, it was now really dark; nothing could be seen far away. The violent wind blasted with gusts the cargo's hull and windows, reinforced by a torrential rain that splatted with clamour on the walls. The ship followed the waves' movements that were becoming gigantesque, making several meters swoops down, so well that one's had to hold on to anything possible to avoid falling down and rolling in the room, with the risk to get hurt when bumping against something. Suddenly, a wave stronger than the others, shook the boat as light as a feather. Every one in the room got sent hurtling in all directions, and when Terry was able to get up, his head hurt. But he did not have the time to check if his wound was deep as a man, stained with soot, opened with precipitation the door and yelled:

There's fire ! There's fire in the engines room !

The whole crew rushed then to the backgrounds. Yet, an acrid and dark smoke was reaching and invading the narrow corridors. The alarm siren had been activated and a deafening din filled the ship. There were yells from everywhere, and the orders mixed with the superiors' panicked ones. Youri-the-husky had gone back up to the deck to activate the water pump while downstairs, the pipes full of seawater were crossed to water the flames. The smoke was so thick that it was hard to see what was happening in the engines room. Cookie decided then to approach the fire that leaked the vapour machines to better contain it. Provided with a simple scarf around his mouth, and with his fire hose, deaf to his congeners' calls who were intimating him come back, he entered the furnace, and disappeared in the opaque clouds. It is when an explosion resounded and strongly weakened the boat. Terry, like many other sailor men, suffered violently the blast, and found himself several meters behind.

Still in shock, he found difficulties to recover his mind. The fire was resisting in the engines room, but the worse had just happened. The explosion had opened a hole in the hull and some water was starting to seep in.

We are sinking! – someone cried out behind him – Get the lifeboats ready and send out an s.o.s !

That was the captain's voice, firm and confident, in spite of the tragic nature of the situation. The most important thing was to act and to save the crew. The fire was able to make everything explode at any moment and they had to leave the place as quickly as possible. But as he was leaving too, Terry realized that Cookie had not come back out of the inferno.

- Cookie ! – he cried out as he went back to the engines room's entry. But a strong grip retained him from moving forward.

It's too late, man. With that explosion, nothing much must remain of Lucky – said the sailor, shaking sadly his head – There is nothing more to do but trying to save our skin. Hurry up, come with me!

But the young man was not listening to him. Cookie was his friend. He could not abandon him that way. He was in danger and he had to rescue him!

Freeing himself from the sailor's grip, he ran towards the stokeholds' entry, and without any hesitation, entered into the flames that swallowed him whole, under the seaman's horrified eyes.

That night, Candy woke up with a start, her face bathed with tears. The horrible images of Terry surrounded with flames she had seen in her dream looked so real that she wanted to yell. She got up, and went, breathless, to the bathroom to serve herself a big glass of water. A big headache was hurting horribly and she took an aspirin pill to calm it down. She saw then her haggard looking in the mirror and put her hand across her tangled and damp hair with a sigh. She knew that she wouldn't be able to find sleep again after that nightmare. So, she had a shower, letting for a long time the warm water flowing along her pretty curves, with the hope that it would calm her. But the frightening and terrifying images were still haunting her. In quest of some fresh air, she decided to go for a walk along the deck. She dressed up quickly, wore her warmest jacket and left her bedroom. At that late hour of the night, she did not meet anybody on the way. She walked along the corridors then pushed the first door that could get her to the deck. The sky was well cleared and welcomed the almost full moon which silvery halo bathed the walkway with a milky light and made it more practicable. Candy felt immediately the sea air on her face and filled her lungs with it. She had always been told that breathing deeply and slowly was an excellent remedy against anxiety, but after ten minutes of respiration, she thought that the one who has imagined that precept was either an incorrigible liar or a premium incompetent, since the so awaited result sounded opposite to its prescriptions. Molded with concern, trembling, she looked for a deckchair to settle down on. She chose one that was away from the wind with a bird's eye view on the lower deck and on the undulating sea limited by the horizon. She took the blanket from it, covered herself with it, and laid down. The moon was reflecting on the waves like in a mirror, getting deformed depending on the undulations, silently, as if trying not to disturb anybody. Only pierced in the night, the light frictions of the boat on the billows.

Little by little, Candy's heart beat less strongly and her breath took a more regular rhythm. The serene atmosphere of the place worked with more efficiency than her own efforts. She tried then to reason herself. It was just a bad dream like many others she had had before. And even if it sounded real, Terry couldn't be in such a terrible situation, surrounded by machines on fire. Of course, he was safe in New York, busy in the rehearsal of one of his theatre plays. That bad dream was only the representation of her fear to lose him one more time while she had just met him again. As she was physically moving away from him, though she would have ardently wished to be with him, all her doubts, all her apprehensions expressed themselves that way. She had to chase those terrible images that only were the fruits of her imagination. To change her mind, she tried to think again about the crossing that was just about to end and about the pleasant time she had. She had not taken real holidays for years. Surprisingly, she did not miss her work at Dr Martin's clinic and she had not think about it for a while. Albert had assured her that her replacing was planned since long time ago, very well organized, so well that she did not have to worry about anything. As a result, she had accepted his wise advises and taken the decision to fully enjoy her weeks off. Patty was a pleasant travelling companion. They had a lot of fun together and took part in the numerous activities offered on the boat: baths in the swimming pool, ping-pong or deck-tennis games. After this, exhausted by their activities, they had the habit to grant themselves with long moments of reading or of laziness on the deck chairs, and to recover their strengths in the main lounge around delicious cocktails and bridge games. On evening, they usually had dinner at the captain's table who liked being surrounding with pretty ladies and rich people. Besides, they had shocked the guest when evoking their respective jobs.

What ?- had taken offense Countess Pavlovitch – You work ? People in your position?

And we do earn our life thanks to it… - had replied Patty, vexed, taking a wicked delight in disconcerting the Russian aristocrat.

Don't worry, we only do that for money… - had maliciously added Candy – But I've to confess to you that I'm happy to have been adopted because I would have never been able to offer myself such a beautiful cruise!

A… Adopted? – had chocked the countess.

Indeed, I grew up in an orphanage, then Sir William Andrey adopted me at thirteen years old as I was working as a maid at my cousins'…

A heavy silence had just beaten down on the table, everybody staring with embarrassment at one's plate. But, suddenly, as angel was passing, a ringing burst of laugher had burst out from the other side of the table. It was Margareth Brown alias Molly Brown, a wealthy widow, who, though having come through the Titanic's sinking, still enjoyed cruises.

Hohoho! – You are both so funny! You remind me of the young woman I was at the same age!

Candy and Patty had looked to each other, surprised and delighted with that unexpected support.

Continue that way, miss! Just rely on yourself and do not act like some people who live in a past that does not exist anymore.

The countess had started before the thinly veiled allusion of the rich American.

Indeed, madam, the world is changing! – had followed Mrs Brown, insisting on each syllable – Women work, have the right to vote, and do not need anymore an husband to be autonomous. Does that freedom scare you, countess?

Embarrassed for being so frankly questioned, the aristocrat had not answered to her and had taken profit of the providential arrival of the desserts to change the subject to a gastronomy topic. The others guest had hypocritically thrown themselves on it, which had emphasized the surrounding uneasiness.

I bet she's even unable to cook an egg!... had moaned Molly Brown, shrugging off.

Candy, patty and their new friend's gazes had crossed each other, and they had dissolved into laugher like blissful ones. They had just rushed their leaving with a vague excuse, and had followed their talking, isolated in a smaller lounge, in front of an excellent espresso.

What a bunk of snooty ones! – had cried out Molly, fluttering vigorously her fan – What do they know about life to judge you that way ? They are only good at counting their greenbacks while they ignore how much it costs to earn them!

Do not worry Mrs Brown, I'm used to this kind of behavior and they do not offend me anymore – had answered Candy with a smile – I've had the luck of being raised up by two wonderful women who taught me the real values of the existence and this helped me a lot in the following. Those people are more to be pitied than to be despised because they wouldn't be anything without their fortune, whereas if I lost everything, I would still have my faithful and sincere friends and a goal in life. I've also the luck to have an adoptive father who understands and share my aspirations. What should I ask for more to be happier?

A fiancé may be? – had launched Molly, her eye blazing with malice – Curiously, you haven't talked about it. Pretty as you look, Candy, I am ready to bet that you have no shortage of choice and that you make yourself desired…

Candy's face had suddenly darkened and she had looked down, embarrassed. Noticing her trouble, Mrs Brown had fidgeted in her seat, sighing, regretting her tactlessness.

_Something terrible might have happened to her to react that way…_

I feel sorry, Candy, I did not want to hurt you – she had mumbled, putting a comforting hand over hers – You are so young, so pretty, that I would have never imagined that you could already suffer love torments. He was a soldier, wasn't he? He died during the war?

Fortunately not!... But all those years without him were like if it had happened that way… - had sadly answered Candy.

Had? – had started Patty, opening widely her eyes, heart beating.

Oh Patty! – had exclaimed Candy, her voice trembling. She turned to her, her gaze full of tears – I wanted to tell you about it thought it might not mean anything but… I… I saw him… I saw him on the gate as the boat was leaving New York!

Oh my God! – had shouted Patty, holding with emotion her hands to her mouth – But what was he doing there?

I think… I hope it is because of my visit to his home few hours before…

Your visit to his home? – Patty had interrupted her, devoured with curiosity – Please, Candy, explain me! Tell me, tell us everything! You won't leave that room before telling us everything!

Indeed, Candy, and I will make sure of it – had added Mrs Brown, a devilish smile splitting her roundish face – Take your time, my child, but more than anything, do not forget any detail!...

Candy had obeyed, chuckling. First of all, she had roughly explained the reasons of the separation to Molly, then had launched herself into her tale. Feverish, she had described the place in which Terry lived, then her encounter with the housekeeper who had invited her to go to his house; the visit of his apartment then that room with the piano and especially le painting which had bowled her over until forcing her to leave. And finally, against all odds, Terry's arrival on the gate, the joy of the reencounter, the shed tears, the exchanged gazes, as the boat was moving away and getting them apart, once again…

Patty, whole trembling, had let tears of joy flow.

My Goodness, Candy! I feel so happy for you! When we arrive to Le Havre, you'll take the first boat back and you will go and meet him again as fast as possible!

This is the reason why I did not want to tell you about it, Patty. I don't want to leave you and to let you finish that journey alone. I'd really like to accompany you. We've gone together, we'll come back together!

But, come on, Candy! Aren't you eager to see him back after all those years?

I do agree with you, Candy – had spoken Mrs Brown, visibly very moved by the young blonde's story – There is no reason to change your plans. Don't make things too easy for this young man. He has to wait for you, to count eagerly each day until your reencounter. The result will even be better, because, believe me, that guy was not on that gate by casualty. He was there for you, darling! Everything indicates that he is still madly in love with you. Why then would he keep so preciously so many memories of you if it were the opposite? Stop doubting and rather focus on that wonderful day that will reunite you both very soon.

Candy had opined without saying any word, just smiling, looking dreamy. Her heart had begun to beat faster, her cheeks had gotten pinker. But Molly, as curious as a magpie, had quickly put an end to her daydreaming.

But tell me, Candy. What this young man's name?

Terry… Well… Terrence… - she had answered, blushing.

Terrence?... Well, well… This remind me of that young actor who plays so divinely at the theatre and whom I saw several times in Broadway!

Candy's cheeks had suddenly gotten redder and her eyes had begun to blaze with thousand stars. Molly Brown's mouth and eyes had immediately widened of stupefaction.

My God, Candy! Are we talking about the same person? – she had cried out, laughing nervously – I understand you so much now! Haaaa! If I were your age, as God is my witness, I would be crazy of him!

She had gone into one of those ringing laughs, making some people look at them with disapproval. Candy's cheeks had now turned to crimson while some condensation had settled on Patty's eyeglasses, bowled over by her friend's revelations.

I love beautiful love stories! Yours is so delicious that it deserves to be celebrated with top honors! Then, let's have some champagne! – had exclaimed the rich American lady as she waved to the waiter who arrived few minutes later, holding a champagne bucket with a beautiful goldened stopper bottle in it.

The night had ended among tears, giggles and bubbles. Patty and Candy, little used to drink alcohol, had quickly gotten tipsy and were forced to join back their cabin before losing all control. They were may be young and single, but they remained ladies, and Candy was not sure that the Andrey family would have appreciated to see their name written in big letters in the newspapers' scandal section. Regarding Mrs Brown, still in good shape, she had prolonged the night in front of a poker game together with fellow countrymen, wealthy manufacturers from Colorado.

All of this had just happened few hours before and Candy laughed innerly as she remembered that astonishing evening. Mrs Brown was really a very charming woman, who had not disowned her poor origins in spite of her social success. She liked shocking people, mulling over the establishment and she had made them laugh a lot with her acid comments on the high society. She was also a woman who knew to bend her elbow and Candy still wondered how she had been so easily dragged into it. It should be said, in her defense, that the champagne was a very good brand, some Cristal from Louis Roederer's, which had been elaborated in the beginning for the Tsar Alexander II of Russia. A real nectar, winy, fine and fruity, a glass of which having been enough to make her lose her head and Patty's. Candy understood then that the alcohol she had drunk would probably have had an action on her dreams. In a regular situation, the hiccups she had been emitting on and off should have disturbed her. That time, in the contrary, they were reassuring her. She knew that even the best of champagnes could perturb her sleep and cause nightmares. She was finding then an answer to her worries and this tranquilized her. She closed her eyes, cradled by the boat rolling. Laying down on the deck chair, well curled up under her blanket, she fell asleep little by little, without any dream that time, but definitively in peace.

Diving and shouting sounds from the lower-deck swimming pool withdrew her from her sleep. As she opened her eyes, it was already daytime. Yet, people were walking on the deck, children were playing, the crew and the officers were coming and going to their tasks. She stretched for a long time then stood up slowly. Her head still hurt and she needed a new aspirin. Arriving at her bedroom, she noticed that the door of Patty's was opened and that the maid was yet cleaning it. She came in and swallowed quickly her pill then looked for her friend, first of all in the restaurant in which breakfast service was almost ending, than in the reading room, and finally outside on the deck, but she did not find her. After long minutes of research, while she was longing for the tenth time the walkway, the French coasts getting bigger and bigger away gave her an idea about the place her friend should be. She ended by catching sight of her on the side of the boat bow, isolated, hidden behind a high and large smokestack. Leaning against the banister, she was staring at the horizon.

Ah, Patty! I was looking for you everywhere!

The young teacher turned around and smiled to her sadly.

I hope you've slept better than I did last night. This champagne did a lot of damage to my little brain. Ouch! – said Candy while massaging her temples.

Patty remained silent, keeping staring at the sea. Worried, Candy put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Patty… You know why you are here… If you want to stay alone, say it to me and I will go, whether not, I'd like to keep company with you in that painful moment.

I'm sorry, Candy – answered the young brunette with a sigh – I did not want to hide myself from you… I wanted just to be here, with him…

_Then this is here where his plane crashed… This is above those streams that Alistair died in the line of duty, that his inert body was engulfed and rests…_

Heavy-hearted, Candy swept with a fresh look the marine landscape that was before her. She moved her hand to Patty's leaning on the banister and pressed it with emotion.

I know that words are not really a good support in those circumstances, Patty, but I wanted you to know that I share your pain. I miss Alistair so much too!...

Against all odds, Patty turned to her a serene face.

Don't worry, Candy, I've been waiting for this time for so long! Can you imagine what it is to be unable to gather on your loved one's grave? I've never wanted to return to the one that was supposed to be his in Lakewood. What should I do there while I know his body isn't? Even if I want to believe that his soul accompanies me, even if sometimes I feel him so close that I could almost touch him, I would have loved so much to see where he rests. And now, I know it… I don't know why I had always imagined that place dark, plunged into darkness, like a never-ending chasm, and I'm discovering it today sparkling under the sun and shaded with colors continuously moving. Like what he was in life, a solar being who illuminated our existences by his quick mind and his kindness. All along those years, I never found the courage to come until here, but that time, with you near me, I felt that I was able to do it. The only thing I have to do is watching you, Candy, and I can hope that we can recover from everything, that we can come out of an ordeal with an increased stature. You are the living proof that we can be wounded by life without ceasing loving it. I wanted then to tell you that the reason of my presence here is to get closer to Alistair but also… to grieve for him…

Patty… - whispered Candy, her eyes clouded with tears.

Don't cry Candy… Be happy for me… - replied Patty, her throat thick with emotion – The Lord knows how much I love Alistair! I will love him until my last day on that earth! But, as we were getting closer to those coasts, to those cliffs that saw him falling down, my heart instead of getting touched felt lightened. I felt reassured, and the anguish, the sorrow that were possessing me in the beginning, had little by little vanished. I had the feeling that Alistair wanted me to understand that I did not have to worry about him anymore, that everything for him would be all right, like for me. It's like if the black veil that faded my life had torn, and that I was discovering again the subtle shades of the existence. I feel like coming out from a long sleep, seeing and hearing again, like a rebirth.

Oh Patty!- cried out Candy, hugging her – You have no idea the joy you're giving to me when saying that! I've prayed so often for hearing one day those words from your mouth!

Hugging stronger her friend, she sobbed of both tears of joy and sadness. Tears of joy because she had never hoped to see Patty rediscovering life, and of sadness also, because Alistair's loss had left a boundless emptiness inside her, an emptiness difficult to fulfill. Alistair… Her companion in bad days, who had always the invention or the right word to make her smile. She had preciously kept the music-box he had given to her at the railway station before she leaves to join back Terry in New York. That pretty music, which, as soon as she heard it, was able to comfort her like he knew how to do it when he was there, close to her. Oddly, she was having the feeling to distinctly hear that melody across the light breeze that caressed her face. She stretched up. In the same time, a gull flew over them, almost brushing them, and let slip out something that twirled around down Patty's feet. She bent down and picked it up. It was a five petals white flower with in its center a curious pistil. A touched smile appeared on her lips.

This an orchid flower… - she mumbled, showing it to Candy with a trembling hand – This is my favorite flower… Alistair used to offer one to me because he knew I loved them.

Orchids do not grow up in full sea, darling… - observed Candy, thrilling before the supernatural phenomenon that was happening under her eyes.

Indeed.. Yes… - murmured Patty, turning around to the coast as she held the flower to her heart.

Candy went closer to her and laid an affectionate arm around her shoulders. Staring at the horizon, her head leaning against hers, she said with a relax voice:

You can have your heart in peace now, Patty. You've just received the most beautiful of love messages, don't you think?

A burning tear rolled along the young brunette's cheek who nodded with a trembling chin.

Y… Yes… Nowadays, I know he is happy where he is… It means a lot to me…

You can think about you now, my friend. I'm sure this is what Alistair wants. I don't know by what miracle he was able to get in touch with you. You are blessed by the gods, Patty!

I wonder… I wonder why there were no sign of him before?

May be weren't you ready? May be that was not his first try but you did not hear him. When you sink into sorrow, you become deaf and blind, you lose all your marks, everything that links you to reality. And when you find it back, when you return to the light, you are blinded by all this flow of feelings, sensations that you had forgotten. But what a joy it is to be able to know that you were not abandoned!...

Candy then told her about what happened in Scotland with Terry, when that latter had obliged her to ride while she was terrified of horses since Anthony's accident. During long minutes, she had screamed her terror, screamed Anthony's name, but, little by little, she had begun to listen to the turned-tender voice of Terry, to feel his heart beatings against her body, to feel the life that flew in him. He smelled the freshly cutgrass, his chest was burning. His words sounded to her ears as if it were yesterday.

_Open your eyes, Candy! Open them wide! Don't look behind you, look ahead!_

And when she had opened them again and observed life around her, he had concluded:

_Anthony is dead, but us, we are here Candy. Life is stronger and memories must leave room to reality. And reality is you and me…_

When hearing those words, hope had rebirthed inside her, a hope she had thought lost forever. But what was more marvelous in that story, was that as she looked better at the trees around her, she perceived, melted among the lights through the leaves, the tender face of Anthony. A smiling and serene face that wanted to tell her that nowadays, everything would be allright. When opening herself back to life, she had been able to hear and see what she had been unable to before, walled in her despair. Patty was now experimenting the same thing and she was delighted to have been there for that moment. She would be then able to reassure her in case of doubt and to certify her that everything which had happened was real.

That latter said then something to her that disconcerted her.

I think that you too, are ready, now… - she did as she gave her an envelop hidden inside the pocket of her jacket.

W… What's that? – muttered Candy, almost fainting, as she recognized immediately Terry's refined writing.

He gave it to me few weeks ago. Forgive me if I did not give it to you earlier… He wanted me to get sure you were really ready for this. He did not want you to feel obliged towards him. You looked so indifferent that I did not want to influence you in anything. But what you told me last night reassured me and confirmed my decision.

A letter from Terry… - said aloud Candy as if she wanted to be sure of not dreaming. Tears were clouding her view and she gripped the letter stronger between her fingers for fear of having it fall down – From the bottom of my heart, I've so much hoped he would write to me one day. I never had the courage to send mine to him. Oh Patty, I feel as if I were dreaming!...

You are not, Candy! I'm so happy to be his messenger! Looking at your face lighting up, hearing you pronouncing his name without a shaking voice, is the best of rewards. Hurry up, Candy! Hurry up to go and read that letter! What are you still doing standing here, come on?

Candy quickly put a grateful kiss on her friend's cheek and ranaway to her cabin. Her heart was beating like the clappers as if it were going to burst out! She was running in the halls without recognizing them, her mind empty of any thoughts. Arriving in front her bedroom's door, her hand was shaking so much that it took her ages to insert the key in the lock. At last, she came in and opened widely the window. The fresh air entered the room and helped her to come back from her torpor. She opened her secretary's drawer and took from it an ivory paper-knife and tore the envelope fold with its blade. A pale yellow sheet was inside, one page only which color reminded of Saint-Paul Park's daffodils, that square piece of flowers upon which she had fallen down by stumbling on Terry who was laying there.

"_Well, even if you like me so much, I am startled by such an abrupt seduction." – he had said, mocking, as he wrapped her waist with his arms._

Blushing, she had violently brushed his arms away.

"_I just stumbled on you! You lie down everywhere like a stone."_

"_No stones enjoy a daffodils' fragrance."_

Candy sighed with melancholia as she thought about that delicious memory.

_Terry among flowers… What a comical sight!_

Once again, she looked at the letter. Feverishly, she took the sheet from the envelope. Her heart began to furiously beat again, dealing painfully her chest a blow. An uncontrollable fear retained her from reading the letter's contents, as if doing it, she would disrupt the enchantment. She had missed him so much!... Now, one only gesture from her and that absence would vanish. This sounded so unreal to her! Finally, reuniting all of her courage, she took the letter between her hands and what she read from it moved her deep inside her.

"_Candy,_

_Have you changed?  
One year had passed since then.  
I had made up my mind to contact you after one year passed, but while hesitating, more than half a year had passed. I dare to post this._

I haven't changed at all.

I just wanted to tell you that, although I don't know whether this _letter__ will reach you._

T.G"

Candy remained for a while petrified, unable to think correctly. While reading those lines, she felt as if he were standing next to her. She could hear his deep and profound voice murmuring those words to her. He sounded so close that she could feel a light fragrance of daffodils around her. She looked up and noticed that someone had left a bunch of those flowers on the night table. Though the blooming season was already ended, she welcomed this as an encouraging sign, an expression of the reality of their love. She went close to the vase and fulfilled her lungs with that penetrating spring smell. She sighed with delight.

Oh Terry!... I have not changed either… Your letter is very short but I don't need long sentences to understand what you meant. Terry, my love… You were hesitating, as I was too. Why are we so afraid from each other? Do you fear as much as I do to see that hope destroyed, like it already happened once? Oh Terry, I would like so much to be with you and break that fatality which kept us away from each other for so long. I would like so much, Terry!...

She toppled backward and let herself fall on the bed, arms outstretched. Dizzy, drunk with new emotions, she closed her eyes and let her laugh, shill in the beginning, then wholeheartedly. She marvelled at the sounds that were coming out from her throat, full of happiness, of a lightness she had not heard neither felt since an eternity. She was in love and she had never felt so much joy to be in such a state…

The following day, in the early hours, a train was leaving Le Havre railway station, with two young adventurous American ladies aboard. In a few hours, after a journey over 200 kilometers, they would arrive in Paris to take the Orient-Express that should transport them to Venice. Comfortably sitting in their private compartment, they were looking at the scenery passing by through the window. The Norman coasts have moved aside for blond lands, gentle valleys, beach and pine trees forests. The train ride followed the Seine and crossed several times the river, which meant the building of viaducts, the longest reaching 520 meters. The two friends enjoyed every time they passed over one of those outstanding structures, which they had a dominant view from over the large river that flew tens of meters below.

Rocked by the train roll, her head resting against the window, Candy was drowsing. Since her departure from New York, she could not sleep well, too much exited she was by that renewed hope to see Terry again, hope increased tenfold after reading his letter. At the time, she had thought about packing her bags and return to the island of Manhattan. But she had quickly changed her mind. How could she go to Terry's and ring at his door, under the little pretext of a short reencounter on the dock of a port and few lines on a sheet of paper? Of course, in the bottom of her heart, that was more than enough for her to run and join him back, but she had not forgotten that it wasn't a lady's behavior. Because with the years, this is what she had become: a wonderful young woman, with perfect posture and speech, and who, far from denying her roots, had made the best of it to integrate it to the position's requirements of heir to the Andrey family. She was Albert's sole daughter and she had been able to prove herself worthy of it, by watching, learning and applying rigorously those behavior rules she had been taught. Ignoring the forked tongues, she had rapidly adapted herself to her new duties whilst providing a grace she had never suspected, a natural grace which only required to be revealed.

However, Terry had laughed at her in Scotland when telling him about her ambition of becoming a lady to honor her great-uncle William.

_- You, a lady? That wouldn't suit you at all! – He had retorted to her in the most natural way in the world._

He had not realized how much his words had been hurtful. Him, like everybody around her, had received an excellent instruction, a perfect knowledge of good manners and she had suffered regularly from those gaps that had often been source of misunderstandings. In spite of this, she had charmed Terry, but she wanted him to know from her that quality she had developed, improved with time. She wanted him to be proud of being at her side, rather than being permanently recalled her modest roots. She wondered though if he would be able to appreciate that change in her. She was not anymore that pupil of Saint-Paul who used to slip out after sundown and climb to the trees like a monkey. Almost ten years had elapsed since that period of time. She had gotten since then a certain maturity that she performed through her nursing job, but she was also an important member of a Chicago high-society family, respected and honored. Will he be able to recognize the true Candy in all of this?

Terry might have changed too. He pretended otherwise in his letter but the tragedy that they had both experimented had certainly left some evidences. Would she like what she could find about him? All of this needed a long thinking. This is why she liked that journey with Patty. That latter had though insisted that she leaves immediately, but Candy had maintained her determination. She wanted to take benefit of those few weeks, far from everything that could remind her of Terry. She wanted to think about her situation. She ardently wanted to see him again, but not in those conditions. Molly Brown had made it understand to her that rush could lead to disappointments and she knew she was right. Patience was going to be her best adviser until her come-back to America, but she admitted innerly that she would need a big dose of it as the only evocation of Terry could make her vulnerable to any temptations.

She affectionately looked at Patty, calmly leaning over her embroidery work, a bib for Annie's future baby. She thought that it was not a bad idea to keep one's hands busy and that it would free her tormented mind. She searched in her things and took a draft of knit out of it that she had begun too in anticipation for the future birth. She held to the daylight what was supposed to be a vest and felt discouraged by its result: in the absence of symmetry, it would be very ventilated for the hot summer days, regarding the wideness of some meshes that let easily pass one or two fingers through. She brought the knit closer to her face and began to play at looking through one of the holes. As she was doing it, she crossed Patty's gaze who had just looked up. That latter's eyes widened with surprise and she burst out of laugh. Candy began to laugh in turn, swept by the shakings of her friend's shoulders. They were laughing so loudly that they could be heard in the whole wagon, so well they did not notice the locomotive's whistles that announced their next arrival to Paris Saint-Lazare sation…

As Terry opened his eyes, his body hurt so badly that he thought that a ten floors building had collapsed on him. He was lying down on a bed and an unpleasant smell of pharmacy was floating in the room. His view was troubled, and he could only discern vague shapes that were coming out in the daylight. A figure came close to him, dressed with a white blouse and a same colored headgear that covered her neck.

- Candy… - he murmured with an almost inaudible voice.

The figure started and coming closer, cried out as she straightened:

- He's waking up! He's waking up! Quick! Go and tell to Mister!

The young man heard then footsteps rushing in the corridor, then, back in return, few minutes later, barging into the room, a familiar voice that made him thrill in spite his stiffness.

- How is he?  
- He's just awakened, sir…

Terry turned his head to the voice, and in spite the fog that slowed down his thoughts, he was able little by little to distinguish its sketches: a dark suit, a proud bearing, some greyish hair that contrasted with the thin still black moustache that covered his great seducer upper lip, were giving him a highly aristocratic and distant allure, recognizable among all.

- Father… - moaned Terry with a breath.  
- Terrence… My son… - replied the Duke of Grandchester.

Lack of sleep had creased his face's traits and veined with red his severe gaze. He put an affectionate hand on Terry's arm who shuddered with surprise.

- Welcome Terrence, welcome to the world of living…

End of chapter 4  
Thank you very much for still reading me !


	5. Chapter 5

I wonder how you can eat that!... – launched Patty with a disgusted look as Candy feasted on a snails plate with garlic herb butter. That latter, busy in the dislodging of the gastropod from its shell, answered her, a greedy smile on her lips.  
- You should taste that, Patty! It's very good!  
- No, thank you very much, indeed! The only idea to bring to my mouth one of those caterpillars makes me sick!  
- You should chase that from your mind! It's excellent! Those French people are really very gifted at cooking!  
- They are mainly talented to make us eat anything! That noon, you asked for some frog legs, and tonight, you are devouring those horned things! Knowing that we'll take the train tomorrow morning is a relief to me. I wouldn't have born one more plate of that kind.  
- This is really a pity… - said Candy, a tiny hint of regret in her voice – but I would have really loved to taste the calf's head sauce gribiche and tripe with the mode of Caen. Hummmmmm!  
- Oh, undoubtedly Candy, you are incorrigible! I wonder if you are not doing that on purpose to make me mad!

A malicious smile appeared on the young blonde's lips who was delighted to tease her friend. Mischievous-humoured, she was entertaining herself with Patty's sensitivity, little attracted by those culinary curiosities. But, as she noticed that she had barely touched at her plate, she regretted to have upset her appetite.

- I'm sorry, Patty. I didn't want to disgust you from eating. We were so lucky to have tonight that table at Maxim's. I regret to have spoiled your pleasure, forgive-me – she did, contrite.  
- Don't worry, this not your fault. I feel a bit queasy since a couple of days. My stomach might have not gotten used yet to all those changes in food.  
- Do you think it will make an effort for the dessert? I have seen on the menu that they were proposing some tarte Tatin. I've been told it's delicious!  
- Excellent proposal! I had the opportunity to eat some once, and it's very good indeed!

Candy waved at the waiter to make an order. He arrived immediately, wearing a virginal white apron, belted at the waist.

- One tarte Tatin for these ladies. Excellent choice! – he said as he wrote down the order on little notebook.  
- My friend has her stomach a little bit upset. It's not too heavy at least? – asked Candy, worried, with a little clumsy French. Her French lessons from Saint-Paul were very far now and were difficult to remind of.  
- Heavy? – Trembled the waiter's dark moustache – These are just little pieces of caramelized apples covered with a puff pastry. The Chef's one is a remedy for all ills, you'll see it!  
- I'm eager to be cured then! – said Patty, giggling.  
- We usually serve it with a light hint of whipped cream – pointed out the waiter.  
- As you've indicated it was "light", it shouldn't hurt us… - added Candy, her eyes just glittering with mischief.  
- Here, Miss, we only do well to people. It's written on the restaurant's rules!  
- I guess I'm going to take you at your words, sir. I'm expecting you to give her appetite back to my friend.  
- Consider your wish granted! – Nodded the waiter. Then he went quickly to the kitchens.

Sitting on the bench, Candy stretched up discreetly with a sigh. She did not dare to confess to Patty that she was dying to take her shoes off. They were making her suffer horribly. They had so much walked in Paris since their arrival in the middle of the morning, that her feet had tripled in size. As they were going to take the Orient-Express the following day only, they had wanted to take profit of the few hours they had to visit the most places possible, and presently, as they were dining in one of the most luxurious restaurants of the city, her legs and her feet were painfully reminding her of all what she had made them suffer. However, she did not regret that crazy day in the capital: the dizzying point of view of Paris from the Eiffel tower, Montmartre district with its painters and its performers, the Champs-Elysées and its Triumphal Arch to the glory of Napoléon. They had been, anyway, bowled over as they discovered the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, a soldier whose identity had been unable to be recognized and who had fought in the last world war. That tomb symbolically represented every soldier killed during that war, and the two young women had had a very moved thought for all those fallen young men and teens. Alistair's memory had become even more vivacious and painful at that time. An eternal flame was lit in front of the tomb and revived each evening, on the end of the day (and still is), and this warmed up Candy's heart to know that her beloved friend, and all his companions in misfortune were not forgotten. They had also walked along the Tuileries Garden then had followed by Le Louvres Museum because Patty absolutely wanted to see with her own eyes the famous painting of Leonardo da Vinci: the Mona Lisa. This painting was under strict surveillance after having been the victim of a robbery in 1911. It had taken more than three years of investigation to find it back in Italy, and it was in 1914 only, that it solemnly came back to France. Painted on poplar wooden panel, the Giaconda's face used to let perplex many of its admirers by the mystery that it exuded. It hadn't been different with Patty who had remained a long moment contemplating the work of that genial Italian artist.

- Do you know that some historians pretend that Mona Lisa is a man? – had she whispered to her friend who was becoming impatient.  
- Who knows!... – had replied Candy with a thoughtful look – Don't you think that they all look like to each other on those paintings? It would seem they all come from the same family…  
- That must be the results of consanguine unions… - had chuckled Patty with a disgusted grin – Marriages between cousins were popular at that time…  
- The Leagan might have then inherited the same habits with their silly idea to make me marry their glorious son. Though we do not have any tie of blood, he remains in fact my cousin!...  
- Stop, please! You are going to make me have nightmares! – had giggled Patty.  
- You're right. I shudder just evoking that donkey of a Daniel. Brrrr!  
- Come with me, let's go outside to warm us up. Paris under the July sun is really wonderful and I don't want leave a crumb behind.  
- As we talk about crumbs, I'm feeling a little peckish. I'd like to taste their famous sandwich with butter and ham.  
- My word, Candy, you can't stop thinking about food! We've left the restaurant two hours ago only!  
- Everything is so good here, Patty! You can't blame me for this!  
- What I'm reproaching you is that you don't get any weight in spite of all what you swallow! If I followed your rhythm, I would be as big as a whale!  
- Listen, let's split the difference! – had she proposed as she showed her a page from their touristic guide – Let's take the Metropolitan for Saint-Germain district. We could sip lemonade at the Café of Flore's patio as I would taste that famous ham-butter – had she added with a little nudge of connivance – Then we could rummage in the bookshops that are very numerous there. The guide says that we can discover real little wonders there.  
- Good idea! Finally your ogre's appetite has some advantages…  
- Indeed!  
- Let us not delay then! The afternoon is already nearly over!

The two friends had then ended their day in Saint-Germain-des-prés district, place that attracted the intellectual elite, in which the greatest philosophes, writers and comedians used to meet to remake the world. In the patio of Café de Flore, it was not long before Candy order her famous sandwich that got devoured in few minutes. She didn't know that in reality, that loaf of bread cut all along its length, spread with butter and inside which was placed a thin slice of coked pork ham, was (and still is) he archetype of the workers' meal who used to eat it at noon in the bistros. Finally sated, Patty had taken her to some second-hand bookshops that exhaled pleasant smells of old papers. She had finally found there a first edition of "Les Misérables" by Victor Hugo, one of her favourite authors and had rushed to buy it. Then they had come back to the Ritz, their hotel located in Place Vendome, in which they were staying for the night. After having relaxed in a good bath and changed of dress, they had come to Maxim's, in which Albert had booked the best table. Candy and Patty couldn't stop marvelling of the care he had paid in the organization of that journey. They were wondering how they would be able to thank him for so much generosity. But presently, they were degusting a delicious tarte Tatin that only increased their gratitude towards him. Candy regretted yet to have to leave so quickly the city of lights but she guessed that Albert had many more surprises in store, which could only end with a flourish when she meets Terry again. Unfortunately, she ignored that although closer from her than she thought, that reencounter was becoming uncertain and may-be impossible, slowed-down by a cruel fate that seemed to have any limit.

Terry looked at himself in the mirror of his bathroom and readjusted his tie. Having lost everything in the sinking, his father had made bring to him some new clothes to have him dressed decently as soon as his health condition would allow. He had waked up in the room of the South Devon Hospital of Plymouth three days ago, and though his body remained yet wholly aching, he was recovering slowly. He had only kept a partial recollection of the accident but what he remembered of the events continuation was from the Duke's tale that he had learnt in his turn from the surviving crew.

Terry recalled that when entering the engines room, he had been surprised by the thick black smoke that prevented him from seeing distinctly around him. But quickly, the burning oil emanations had made the air unbreathable. He wanted to find Cookie as soon as possible and both runaway from there. While seeking his friend with touch, he called him several times without any answer in return. Some water had begun to trim by the break and its level had begun to rise ominously and threatened to lead to a new explosion. On the other side, they were lacking of oxygen, making him sick. If he did not find back Cookie quickly, he would certainly lose consciousness, and they would both die in the flames or asphyxiated. As he was losing any hope, he had stumbled on something. Lowering down, arms straight, he had finally discovered a stretched out inanimate shape: Cookie! Without waiting any further, he had begun to lift the body up, but he did not have forces enough because of the lack of oxygen. The storm was still shaking the boat in all directions, and was brutally pushing him against the machines, making him lose his stability. Several times, the chock had almost made him lose Cookie, so well that he clung to him desperately, knowing that if he dropped him, he would be unable to find him again. His lungs were painfully making him suffer. He had to react quickly! Reuniting his remaining strength, he had started again to drag Cookie towards the exit that he hardly could see, far behind him. He was progressing slowly, in part due to the water that slowed him down, but mainly because of the thick smoke that prevented him to breath. Breathless, his lungs almost exploding, he had finally managed to come out from the heat, carrying with him his still unconscious friend. Then, in turn, he had lost consciousness and had only awaked two days later in that hospital room.

He had been told that a Canadian boat had picked up their distress message and had come and rescued them. Then they had sailed to Plymouth harbour, the English closest town susceptible to have a hospital. When getting the emergencies, Terry had been registered under the name of Baker because it was under that pseudonym that the crew knew him. During the examination, the doctor noticed the gold ring that he was wearing at his right hand, and he thought that he was not dealing with an ordinary sailor. He had taken off the ring from Terry's finger for a better look, and had noticed the emblems engraved on the flat setting, while inside, he found out an inscription with the name of Grandchester. He had not find any difficulty to relate it to the aristocratic family of the same name, very well-known and respected in England. He had then moved quickly to contact the Duke. That latter, when learning the news, had rushed to his son's bedside, only leaving the bedroom to ask the doctors about his health condition. In his bad luck, Terry had been very fortunate. The smoke gas hadn't damaged his lungs too severely. However, he would have to stay with an unpleasant cough that should disappear in few weeks. But his condition had no comparison with Poor Cookie's one who suffered many burnings and several fractures that required him to stay in bed for a long time. But he was alive, he was going to recover, and that was very important to him.

Terry passed his hand over the stitches that had been sewed over his left eyebrows. Because of the numerous chocks his body had suffered during the sinking, he was unable to say how he had been injured, but he knew that it would recall him forever of that tragic event. Far from disfiguring him, it emphasized the mystery that emerged from all his being. He began to think then that it could be an advantage to help him in the interpretation of graver characters in the future. He did not intend to play male leads indefinitely, roles that were usually assigned to him. But the hardship he had been through had brought a new look to his work. It was time for him to take part into more complex characters, and if they were not proposed to him, it was up to him to create them!

But for now, it was not the moment to question about his artistic future. He had a bigger concern in mind: Candy. Contrary to the exaltation that had inhabited him since their reencounter in New-York harbour, he was experiencing a deep feeling of desolation and depression. Since his recovery, one nagging question haunted him: Did he have really to find her back? What could it lead to but a disaster, so much being alongside him resulted into misfortune for his surrounding? Yet in Saint-Paul, his relationship with Candy had led to her locking-up and her expulsion from the College. Then Suzanna had lost her leg as she tried to save him, and now, Cookie who had helped him to leave America, was suffering countless pains in that hospital bed. No, he did not want to run that risk with Candy. He brought to much bad luck to all who approached him. It was better for her to stay far from him. Because of that decision, he might feel forever miserable, but at least, she would remain safe. He went and sat down on the edge of his bed and plunged wistfully his face in the hollows of his hands. Taking that decision was shooting him through the heart, but he knew innerly that it was the right one. In spite of this, it was the most painful one he had had to take in his whole life.

Someone nocked at the door and he looked up, his throat thick with tears. His father was standing in front of him. In spite of the years, Terry was still impressed by that latter who was looking at him without letting escape any emotion. However, he had felt a degree of concern on his face when he had waked up at the hospital, a demonstration of fragility that he had quickly controlled and hidden since he was reassured about his condition. The young man was also aware, thanks to a nurse's indiscretion, that the Duke was staying in an hotel of the city to be close to him but he had taken care no to tell it to him. That lack of communication between them was not a surprise to him. It had always been that way and he had gotten used to that. The rare exchanges they had had during his life had always concerned his education. Regarding the last talking they had had few years before, it had particularly ended badly as it was about his decision to relinquish the name of the Grandchester.

- You can deny your origins, Terrence, but whatever you do, you'll remain a Grandchester ! – Had cried out the Duke angrily banging his fists on his fine wooden desktop – My blood runs through your veins, whether you like it or not, a noble blood, heritage of fearless and valiant warriors with knightly honour, who built the reputation of our family! Our ancestors must be turning into their graves!  
- Is it then what matters you the most, father? The family reputation while you did nothing to give me, even the illusion, that I was one of its members?  
- I gave you a name, an education…  
- Yes, indeed, but in the bottom of your heart, I've always remained in your view your illegitimate child, your bastard, the one that you however took from his mother! Why did you do that? Why such cruelty?  
- You were still my son, Terrence… You had to come and live with me… Contrary to what you think, that was not an easy decision to take, believe me…  
- I'ven't been believing nothing from you for a long time, father, neither waiting anything… I desperately asked for your help one day. That was the first and only time, and by your refusal, ma life has been changed forever. I would have been able to forgive you anything, father, but not for abandoning your son while he was begging you to help him. A single action from you would have been able to give another meaning to my life. Blue blood runs through our veins, we both bear the name of Grandchester, but this does not necessarily mean that you've been a good father. So, please, do not ask me to have a hint of recognition towards that family that does not mean anything to me but contempt for its outdated rules. Farewell!

Terry had left without turning back, well determined to forget anything that could link him to his family. He had taken the name of Graham that was his second firstname and kicked into the long grass the surname of Grandchester. Since that day, he had not given any sign of living to his father, neither thought about visiting him, convinced that the next time they would meet each other, would be for the funerals of one of them. But as they were facing each other, he wondered what fate had planned for him for having so valiantly forced this reencounter. It was indeed short on enthusiasm, but what he had briefly read in his father's gaze when awakening, suggested that that latter might have some affection for his son. When looking at him, Terry had for the first time the feeling that his heart was warming up, and a strange sensation, both surprising and destabilizing, invaded him.

- I'm here to pick you up, Terrence. Are you ready?

Terry nodded as he took his jacket that was on the edge of the bed, and made it rock over his shoulder. The doctor had allowed him to leave the hospital but he had to stay for a few days in the family residence to recover definitively. He had quietly forgotten to inform his father that he intended to go back to America the following day.

- I'd like to go and visit Cookie before leaving, if you don't mind, father.  
- Of course. Let me guide you to his bedroom. It is at the bottom of the corridor.

The two men walked along the hall and parted only in front of the young sailor's bedroom. A nurse, with voluptuous allure, was finishing tying his bandages, and stretched up with a smile when seeing the seducing and elegant young man who had entered the room.

- Oh, Mr. Grandchester! Ready for leaving?  
- As you can see, miss…  
- It is so regrettable to see you leaving so quickly! I would have been very able to take care of you. We are going to miss you! – She said while giving him one of the most eloquent languid gaze as she reunited all her instruments.

Embarrassed, Terry mumbled few words of thanks and looked down as she brushed past him, with her rolling gait, to go to another patient. Once far away, he sighed with relief and ran and sat down near his friend who was both chuckling and wincing in pain. With casts at a leg and a arm, half his body covered with bandages, he looked like a mummy among comfortable pillows. But the twinkle in his mischievous eye that could be seen under the band-aids reassured Terry about his moral condition.

- I thought she was going to jump on you, buddy! Thank goodness I was there!...  
- I don't want to sound presumptuous, my poor Cookie, but I think that you would not have been of much help for me – answered Terry with a mocking smile.  
- Do not be so sure, I still have a powerful voice!

To those words, he tried some noisy shoutings that made him cough violently. He groaned in pain under the jerking assaults of his cough on his injured body.

- I think you'll have to moderate your enthusiasm for a while, my friend – said Terry as he tried to de-dramatize the situation. He was discovering, horrified, the seriousness of Cookie's condition and he realized that many months would be necessary to recover from his injuries. He did not have any idea about the level of his burnings, but he wanted to hand him over the best specialists before leaving. A veil of sadness passed before his eyes and he looked down to hide his emotion. He did not want Cookie to read his worry in his gaze.  
- Miserable cough that plows my lungs! – cried out the young injured between two coughing spells – The doctors say that I've been lucky, that I could have died asphyxied or ended my life in a sanatorium. I want to believe them, but, when it holds me, I feel like someone wants to pull my breast out!  
- It will disappear as time passes. The toxic gas has damaged your bronchi and they need to reconstitute themselves. But it won't be ended in a few days. You must be patient.  
- Yes, I know… Days and months to wait… - he sighed.  
- Little by little you will recover and the progress you'll make will help you during that long waiting.  
- But how am I going to do if I remain trapped in that bed, Terry? Without boat, without the sea all around me?  
- You will get used to it because you'll have to. You have no more choice but cure, and this needs time. But I don't worry about you. I will get sure that the nurses make a fuss over you!  
- Hahaha! When you are gone, they'll only have eyes for me! I don't look so bad either, in my own right!  
- That's true, you still have got what it takes! – Answered Terry, laughing.  
- You don't know how true it is! An athletic body is hidden under all those bandages!  
- Hahaha! Bloody Cookie! I think that they won't be bored with you! It's good to know that you stay positive.

Cookie went no further than silently nodding and smiled sadly. What good would it do to elaborate on his fears and worries, on his uncertain future that was ahead of him? He hoped that his convalescence would knock some sense into him because he was paying a very expensive price the unreasonable risk he had taken when plunging into the flames while the last machinist, having understood the seriousness of the situation, had runaway from his station. He deeply regretted his unconsciousness that was confining him to a hospital bed for a long time. He had often accepted the fact that he would always learn from his errors, but he blamed himself for not having applied that principle once too much. It only remained for him to be patient, quality that was totally unknown to him and that he would have to tame if he wanted to make those future months acceptable. He regretted that Terry was already leaving him, but he knew that he would not stay alone thanks to the regular visits of his companions of misfortune. They were stuck in the dock waiting for a job on another boat. Fortunately there were no victims among them. The only injured of the sinking were him and Terry, and he couldn't stop thanking heaven for having spared all of them. Feeling appeased, he looked at his friend, who, hands crossed between his knees, was looking at the window with a dreamy mood.

- You are eager to see her again, aren't you? – he asked in a tone of confidence.

Terry looked down, hesitated a while then answered sadly:

- I've decided to stop searching her. I'm going back to America…  
- What? Have you lost your mind?  
- On the contrary, I've had three days to think about it. I can't… I… I know that if she's part of my life, something terrible will happen to her. Every people who approached me, regretted it in the following to have met me. I'm a bird of ill omen, I undeniably bring bad-luck, and I want to protect her from this. I could not accept to make her suffer.

Though immobilized, Cookie was moving in his bed like one possessed.

- I think that I've never heard such a load of claptrap in my life! But what makes you think that you bring misfortune?  
- Numerous events along my existence confirmed it to me. And even today, looking at you injured in that bed, is another edifying proof. If I hadn't been on that boat, a fire wouldn't have certainly happened and you would not have been hurt.  
- Hold on… If I understand you well, you've thought that by some supernatural power that you have, you were able to attract a storm strong enough to make capsize a boat and make explode the engines room. Is that right?  
- Y… Yes… Well, in some ways… - mumbled the young English as he realized how grotesque his thinking was.  
- In that case, "Jesus, my saver", apply immediately your hands on my body because I'm sure to cure right in the second!  
- Don't laugh at me…  
- But who laughs at the other, here? How could you convince yourself of something so ridiculous although… although if you would not have been on that boat, I would not be there now preaching you. Even though you weren't there, that accident would have happened, but without you, I would be dead and gone, my athletic body feeding the little fishes of our blue ocean. You've risked your life for me, Terry, and you've saved me. I cannot thank you enough for that. I'm may be not in very good shape presently, but I'm going to recover and in a near future, I'll be able to invite one of those pretty nurses to dance, and this will be thanks to you! Then stop having in mind things that don't exist and run and meet her again. Now!  
- I… I don't know whether…  
- Will I be obliged to kick your glorious bottom out, Scottish ass? Go, run, fly to Venice and come back to me as the happiest of men!  
- Cookie, I…  
- Shut up! No more word! Leave me now. I'm tired and I've a great need of rest with all the emotions that you've just made me feel. When I wake up, I want to know that you are on the road to Italy. Promise me!  
- I… I prom…

But Terry had not ended his sentence that Cookie was already sleeping deeply. A bit taken aback, troubled, the young man stood up and left the bedroom. He started as he noticed his father who was waiting for him in the dark hall, leaning against the wall. That latter stretched up and stood before him, watching him with a grave look.

- I think that our long way to London will not be too much because we have many things to talk about, son. Many things indeed…

You don't look good, Patty. Are you sure to be fine? – asked Candy to her friend while they were drinking an infusion, comfortably sitting on one of the lounge-car benches.  
- I don't know really… Since the end of the meal, I don't feel very good, queasy. It must be the train journey that made me sick. I might need to walk and breath. In spite of the few stops we did, those two days looked to me suffocating.  
- One more night of patience and we'll be arrived. You'll feel better tomorrow morning, when discovering Venice.  
- That must be enchanting! Don't we say "See Venice and die"?  
- If it is said so, that must be true. But I don't want to die presently! – said Candy, chuckling.  
- Hahaha! Of course, you don't! So many beautiful things are still waiting for you, in particular these reunions with a very good-looking English aristocrat…

Candy smiled, blushing. She turned her head towards a couple who was waltzing near them, next to the piano, and she thought that one day soon, she would be dancing too in Terry's arms. She missed him so much since she saw him again! The more days passed, the more that waiting was becoming difficult to live. Paradoxically, she was feeling in a constant state of bliss and she liked that euphoria that made her existence light. This brought a spicy flavor to their reencounters she dreamed about in her sleep, and the fecundity of her imagination surprised her and made her blush.

Around them, the waiters were busing the tables and setting them for the following day. The sound of crystal glasses that clinked between their skillful hands with in background, the soft melody playing on a piano, was cradling the two young women who had their eyes almost closing. They could have joined the little birthday party that was taking place in the wagon next to theirs, but Patty's yawns encouraged their return to their cabin. They walked along the long corridor made with mahogany and rosewood that passed through several bluish cars, then pushed the door of their suite. The organization of that one was particularly ingenious. It consisted of two doubles cabins that communicated each other, allowing then to double the space and dispose in the first cabin of a small living room with Pullman benches, table and stools. The other cabin was changed for the night into a bedroom with two bunk beds. A veritable jewel, trimmed with precious inlays and sparkling brasses. It was provided with a washbasin with hot and cold running fresh water, towels dressing case. A ring allowed calling a day and night available steward. Regarding the toilets, they were located at the end of each sleeping-car. The two friends quickly went to bed and fell asleep. But in the middle of the night, as Candy was deeply sleeping, she got awaked by odds moans that appeared to come from the lower bunk. She lit her night light, passed her head over the bed and saw Patty, lying in a crouched position, her face contorted, holding painfully her belly.

- What's wrong, Patty ? You don't feel good? – she cried out as she jumped from her bed.  
- Oh Candy, it hurts so much!...  
- Let me see, please – she said as she passed her hand over the painful area, of which only contact made Patty scream.  
- Don't worry. I think I know what you have… - she said as she sounded nervously the alarm to call the steward who arrived few minutes later.  
- Ladies, may I help you? – he asked with a yawn.  
- Please, find us a doctor! I think that my friend is having an appendicitis crisis!  
Candy's alarmed face ended to wake up the young man who answered her:  
- There is an English doctor in the next car. I run and look for him!

- Please, do fast! – she exclaimed with a tremolo while Patty's lamentations increased.  
She went and soaked a towel in the lavabo and put it on her friend's burning forehead. The doctor arrived few minutes later, in sleepers and with his medical suitcase. He quickly examined Patty and confirmed Candy's diagnosis.

- It looks pretty enflamed. She should have surgery as fast as possible if we do not want to risk peritonitis! Unfortunately, I don't have my tools with me. As I'm on vacation, I've only taken with me the essential.  
Visibly worried, he passed his hand on his forehead as he walked in the room.  
- What's the nearest town? – he suddenly asked to the steward who was remaining tetanized in the door frame.  
- We should get to Verona in less than an hour, sir…  
- In that case, make sure to inform the hospital of that town that someone must wait for us at the station with an ambulance. Ask them too to have the surgical room ready. Every minute counts!

The steward nodded and ran to send the telegram. Few minutes later, the director of the train, who visibly had gotten dressed quickly, showed up. He told them that the telegram has been sent to the stationmaster of Verona to pass the information on further. He tried as much as he could to comfort them though he felt, for his part, uncertain. It was not the first time he was having a passenger ill in his train, but it was always an anguishing experience, especially as the situation could become dramatic.

The doctor tried to reassure and cheer Patty up. He made her drink a drug that was supposed to calm her pain, but it only led to make her throw up and suffer even more. Candy, for her part, had quickly gotten dressed and was reuniting, with a shaking hand, their stuff. She was conscious that they would not go back with the Orient-Express and that their stop in Verona might last longer than anticipated. When her luggage ended, she sat down near her friend, took her hand, and tried to comfort her as much as she could. But it was not easy to calm someone who suffered, and she welcomed with great relief, the strident shouts of the train entering the station. She looked through the window and saw the ambulance that was waiting for them, back from the platform. Two male nurses went out from it and came into the wagon with a stretcher. They laid Patty down on it as gently as possible and they brought her back to the ambulance. Candy took her bag that contained personal documents and began to follow them. At the last moment, she turned to the steward, who, before her trouble, reassured her immediately:

- Don't worry, miss. You can leave fearless. I'll take care of everything. Good luck with your friend!

Candy thanked him with a warm handshake and rushed to the ambulance. The doctor who had auscultated Patty was standing with the nurses and giving them the last recommendations, in a rough Italian but enough to be understood. Then he explained them that Candy, who did not speak any Italian, was the patient's friend and they should allow her to come with them. When done, he saluted the young American, using all his British courtesy that characterized him, then went back to his train, that was already spitting some vapor clouds, that announced an imminent departure. Candy took place in the ambulance backside, pressing Patty's hand who was wriggling with pain. The car doors slammed shut on them and the vehicle started, going hurtling across the deserted streets of Verona, with sirens blaring in the silence of the night…

The Duke of Grandchester's Rolls-Royce had left Plymouth and was rolling since a long time yet on the London road that overlooked the coast. Sitting on the car's rear bench, Terry, pretending to be busy with the sea view, was surreptitiously watching his father and waiting. He was waiting for the important thing the Duke had to tell him. Since their leaving, they had not exchanged any word. Finally, he heard the leather of the seat next to him whispering, and felt his father moving and searching in the inner pocket of his jacket. He took off an envelope from it and gave it to him. It was some new identity documents to replace the ones that had been lost during the sinking. The name Grandchester was written in big letters on the document. Terry could not keep a frown that was immediately noticed by the Duke.

- You'll be able to change of name when you come back to America if you want, but here, on your ancestors' land, and also for the British Civil Registar, you remain Terrence Graham Grandchester, my son…  
- Father, I…

Terry's words stumbled on the edge of his lips. Some confuse ideas were bombarding him and he was having a lot of difficulty to control them. After a long moment of thinking, he was able to and he turned to him with a certain emotion in his voice.

- In reality, I've never wanted to hurt you, Father. But, to be honest, this is what I wanted at that time. I knew that you were giving much more importance to the name of Grandchester than to your own son, and I wanted to make you suffer by refusing to bear it. However, when starting the procedures in the United States, I understood that it was more complex and deep than it was: it was really for me a means to find my own identity and to distinguish me from a lineage that had only brought me disillusions.  
- Why then do you still wear the family ring that I bequeathed to you for your fifteenth birthday?  
Terry's look move to his left hand and rested upon the signet ring that adorned his middle-finger. He had indeed kept it during all those years. That highlighted the complexity of his feelings towards his family, feelings that he had pushed back and refused to considerate. Troubled by that intimate confession, he stuttered:  
- I've no idea why I kept that ring during all that time…

He did another pause and looked at the window. Through the veil of his reflection, he could see the sea, peacefully unrolling its waves on their dying way to the beach. The atmosphere of quietness that emanated from it singularly contrasted with the whirl of emotions and interrogations that were shaking him.

- May be because, despite myself - he said finally – I wasn't able to do it… to mourn my story… You were right, Father. I remain, in spite of this, a Grandchester. I've from it an education, a family heritage…  
- Son… - murmured the Duke as he tried an affectionate gesture to Terry's shoulder.  
- But, don't mistake - he added, moving back – What made me a Grandchester, is also what made what I am now. Terrence Graham, prince of paper decors who only found his nobility back from the lines that he recites.  
- Nobility and talent, Terrence. I can confirm it. I saw you on stage…

The young man's pupils dilated with stupor, so disproportionately that everything seemed losing its shape around him. Shattered, he babbled:

- Ex… Excuse me, Father? You've attended one of my plays?  
- You look very surprised!  
- I'm sorry, but you've always been against ma vocation. According you, it was just a crush. You were so critical regarding this, so impervious to listen to me, that the eventuality of your presence in the audience sounds to me unbelievable!  
- However… During one of my trips to New York, I went to see you, Terrence, and … I understood…  
Terry's heart began to beat faster, his throat to become dry. The duke turned to him and plunged his dark gaze into his, without any coldness that time, almost benevolent.  
- Hidden in the darkness of that theatre balcony, I understood while watching you, that you had made the right choice, my son… Since you appeared on stage, you were giving shape to the character, bringing a reality to that imaginary creation. And there, before my astonished eyes, as I came with prejudices, I discovered a being full of energy, of impetus, who, through the magic of his acting was making us accomplice of the surrounding illusion. I wondered: "What's his secret? What's that gift that I always ignored?". And then, I realized that it had always been in you, that it was in your genes, because, you are perhaps my son, but you are also a woman's one who used to be able to sublimate a scene, to wonder the assistance, to charm it until leaving it quiet of emotion: your mother, Terrence, your mother had that power and I got awed by her too!

Against all odds, Terry's jaw tensed and he retorted with an acerb tone.

- Such praise for someone that you abandoned!

The Duke stepped back as if he had been reached by a spit and tightened up. His hands that covered the knob of his wooden stick quivered during a short time.

- I paid a high price for this! Not a day goes without regretting my decision.

The shoulder-shrugging he received in return increased his irritation.

- You're judging me very severely, Terrence, but thirty years ago, it was not so easy to be the heir of Grandchester! Your grandfather had kept, despite his old age, a lot of influence over his surrounding and me. I was hand and foot tied!

Facing his son's silence, he began a long monologue that he hoped persuasive.

- First time I saw your mother, I immediately, madly loved her… I wanted just one thing: living by her side, marrying her and founding a family with her. But life is not a fairy tale and things rarely go like we want… At that time, I was engaged to Beatrix. It was an arranged marriage that didn't matter but which had a whole different meaning for me after having met your mother… I went to see your grand-father, I begged him to release me from that union, but in turn, he counter-attacked with substantive arguments: the dishonor that would tarnish the family reputation by marrying an American starlet, and also the threat of leaving me without a penny if I executed my plan. I had been raised in in the principles of honor, prestige and duty. If I disowned that, I would not just lose my name, title, and fortune, but also the political carrier that I was building. I didn't have the courage to renounce all of that…

Terry persisted in his silence, simply looking at his father with irony and reproach. Once again, the Duke underwent the implacable judgment of his son but that time he did not turn away from it.

- I know what you are thinking… That I was a coward who did not sacrifice his material well-being and his political future for your mother… Coward and cruel… I didn't only abandon her, I also took her son from her…

Terry, his head lowered and his hands crossed between his legs, let escape:

- There are no words to be able to say what you made us suffer. I never understood and I always wondered why you behaved that way. You did not need me!  
- You might not believe me, but that was a real matter of conscience for me – answered the Duke with a sad sigh – You were also my son and I wanted you to grow up without the shame of being an illegitimate child.  
- You were not obliged to recognize me legally. You could have left me with my mother!  
- Don't be so naïve! Do you think that you would have been better served if you had borne your mother's name? You would just have been the obvious proof of her fault, the sin of flesh she had committed with a man already engaged. Do you think that in America people were more open-minded than the high British aristocracy? You are wrong. There, they would have thrown stones to you too, and your mother would have even more suffered because they would have made her pay expensively to be a single mother. Her carrier would have never been what it is… Nothing was more painful to me to force her to leave you with me. I knew that I would break her heart and I couldn't bear it. I also knew that she would never forgive me this, that she would curse me for this for the rest of my life, and that I would have to live with that guilt all my life. But I knew that I would give you a name, a title, a future, and this helped me to act because I thought I was doing it for your good… and for hers…  
- But why were you then so distant with me? Beatrix always hated me, my brother and my sister always made me understand that I was not part of the family. Why didn't you protect me?  
- Because… Because, every time I looked at you, every time my eyes crossed yours, I felt like seeing her again!... You look like so much your mother! You daily reflected me the happiness that was refused to me, that brought me back to my past and to my mistakes. And like an idiot, I pushed you back because your presence was such a suffering for me that the only comfort I found was when being far from you…

He stopped a minute, then followed with a broken voice.

- Forgive me if I've been cruel with you! I've never wanted to become the being cold and distant that you know. I loved so much your mother, so much, that when I had to renounce her, a part of myself, the best of it, died at that time. I've neglected you, I've made you suffer too. Instead of getting closer to you, I've reproached you your rebellious mind. I could not bear you challenge my authority and I chased you from my home…  
- You did not chase me. I was the one who left…  
- In any case, I considerably eased your task… I remember that day when you came to see me. You wanted me to help that young schoolgirl who was about to be expelled from Saint Paul. You were standing in front of me, imploring, almost hysterical. I thought that if you could so much fie upon your pride, it meant that she might have a great importance to your eyes. I thought back to my own experience, begging my father to let me marry your mother, and however, and though, I acted like him and refused to respond to your request… I can't explain to you why, though having been the victim of such behavior myself, I repeated the same mistakes… I can't say why I did not stretch out my hand to you that day… Simply may be because I did not want you to be happy. I knew that contrary to what I had known, I would never have been able to impose you something. You were free and determined, and I blamed you to be what I had always dreamed to. My lack of braveness, my need of social recognition had led me into that miserable life that was mine, and I mercilessly punished you for this… The following morning, you renounced to everything and left the college to prevent the expulsion of that girl. Once again, you threw to my face the mediocrity of my behavior. And when, in retaliations, I wanted to stop my financial support to the college, it was that little American girl who came to bring me to my sense…  
- Candy? Candy came to talk to you?  
- Amazing person indeed who did not hesitate to climb on my car to force me to listen to her!...  
- That's Candy! – said Terry, chucking. His face enlightened and a nostalgic smile appeared on his lips.  
- A tough girl!... She lectured me as I had never been before, and reminded me of my father's duties, and especially convinced me not to try to find you. She had such great confidence in you, she seemed to know you so well, much more than I did, that I listened to her in silence. Everything she said sounded so right and sensed. That day, you both gave me, in spite of your young age, the greatest lesson of life!...

Baffled by the Duke's confessions, Terry stayed paralyzed, unable to say any word. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. He did not recognize the man sitting next to him. He had kept though the same grave and intimidating voice, the same majesty in the gestures, the same dark and freezing gaze that could petrify you when looking at you. But if you watched him carefully, you could perceive a kind of crack, a fragility that he did not know or that he had never wanted to see. As he opened more his heart, Terry began to understand what linked them to each other: a mutual distress that perhaps did not have the same origins but that they felt the same way. He imagined his father, twenty-seven years before, a handsome passionate young man, his silver hair having recovered his jet-black color, his heart full of hope before the life that presented itself to him, then the drama that was almost overnight played out, forcing him to renounce everything that counted for him, forcing him to renounce the love of his life… Even if he did not find any excuse to this, he was able to understand that feeling of nothingness that had swamped him and that had taken away his portion of humanity from him. It was a feeling that he recognized for experiencing the same perfidious poison for ten years, since he had finished with the one he loved. Luckily, he didn't have a child!... Only God knows how he would have behaved with that little being, so much the pain of the lack had destroyed him inside… Him, who had sworn to himself that he would never behave like his father did, found a lot of common ground with him…

That latter withdrew him then from his thoughts with an intrusive remark that disconcerted him:

- You must be very in love yet to come up to here look for her…

Before his son's dumbfounded face, he added with a conspiratory whisper:

- You talk while sleeping…

Terry relaxed a little and nodded wistfully.

- I'm madly in love with her since our first meeting…  
- Why then didn't you marry her? Why having lived all those years with that girl who had gotten injured during a rehearsal? Miss Marlowe, isn't it?

Terry remained thoughtful for a long time before answering. Painful memories were submerging him, full of regrets and bitterness.

- I stayed with Suzanna – he ended up saying wearily – because, like you, father, I lacked courage. I was racket with guilt for still being alive while she was disabled because of me. I couldn't say no and I let Candy leave. At the moment, I thought that it would help me to do my duty, the one of being at Suzanna's sides and to take care of her. But as time elapsed, I realized the seriousness of my mistake. I was tied to that woman for the rest of my life, that woman whom I did not love, who accepted that and who was happy with that. I reached the point to despise her and in the same time I blamed myself for that because I was responsible of that situation. I lived Candy's absence like a real suffering, a little death that surreptitiously racked my heart and my soul… Oddly, when Suzanna died, I should have felt some relief and rush to Candy, but once again, I did not have courage enough. Some many years had elapsed that I was convinced she had turned the page, that she had forgotten me, that even she had may be gotten married. I was too afraid of having to face that horrible truth, that the love that had linked us was just a memory, and I didn't search to see her again. Lately, against all odds, she came back to my life. That was a very short moment, but the few exchanges we got gave me back courage and mainly the crazy hope that she could still share the same feelings.  
- How can you be sure of this if you go back to America? – Retorted finely the Duke.

Once again, Terry was taken aback by the embarrassing question of his father who was holding his gaze and did not seem disposed to take it off.

- You've heard my talking with Cookie, haven't you?  
- Yes, indeed. I must confess… I didn't have to keep my ears open much. The walls of the hospital were not very thick… I hope you'll forgive this indiscretion but I was worried about you and I wanted to know the reasons of your coming here. I thought that your talking with your friend would shed light on this, and I was surprised by what I learnt…  
- Am I then able to surprise you?  
- More than you think and a little more each passing day!... But now, I must tell you that I'm a bit disappointed in you. You say that you love that young woman, you cross the Atlantic to find her back, you survive to a sinking, and presently, while reaching your goal, you want to go back to the United States! It does not mean anything!

Terry looked down, whistling.

- I'm afraid… - he said with a hushed voice – I'm afraid of breaking the charm… of disappointing her… I've always failed everything with her…  
- My son, people learn a lot from their mistakes, and you'll commit many other ones. But, in any case, I'm sure that if I had, like you, the opportunity to repair the one that would allow me to meet again the woman I love, I would not wait any more second, because it will not come around any time soon. If your love was able to resist to all those years, it's because it deserves to be lived. Therefore, don't be afraid of it, grasp it with both hands and fight for it! If you don't do it, you'll regret it all your life, because you'll never know if you did the right choice. Believe me, living in such conditions is not living. I'm a depressing illustration of this…

Terry was listening to him in silence. In the depths of his heart, he was very relieved to hear that. Few hours before, Cookie had yet begun to make him doubt about the credibility of his decision. Now, his father was repeating similar comments. Them both, in their own way, knew how to find the right words to make him change of mind. He could admit it: he was feeling relieved of a burden that had been oppressing him for several days. And he was realizing that he would never have been able to bear life if he had applied his resolution. From all his being, from all his soul, he wanted, he was hungry to see Candy again and to give them both a chance to know finally happiness and peace. He turned to his father and addressed him a face very distinct from the somber and disabused look he had displayed since their leaving.

- Do you think we could make a detour by Southampton? I'd like to check if a boat is leaving for France…  
- Wise decision, Terrence! – Exclaimed the Duke, his eyes sparkling with joy, as he put an affectionate hand on his son's shoulder - You couldn't make me prouder ! Indeed, Terrence, I'm very proud of you, and I'm not ashamed to say it to you…

Before the stupefied and interrogative expression of his son, he followed with a certain emotion in his voice:

- You see, I've never been able to talk to you, to share anything with you either. We did not do that in the family. It was indecent to express our feelings. Only authority and respect of traditions prevailed. Unfortunately, I've very well applied those principles with you. And when you left, so young, I realized a little too late the disastrous consequences of my behavior towards you. I knew that I could not make you come back, then I followed you from the distance and I lived your success vicariously. I came to New York to confirm through my own eyes, the shining being that people described about you. And obviously, I agreed that you had been right to go far away from me, whether not you would have become like me, a selfish man, cold and insensible to everything around him. I'm telling you that, Terrence, because I should have done that earlier. When I saw you on that hospital bed as people were unable to tell me if you were going to survive, I really thought that I was going to lose you forever, and that you were going to die without knowing that… that I loved you! I swore to myself that if you waked up, I would tell you how important you are to me. And I'm telling you now. I'm proud of what you are, of the life you chose to live. Your ancestors did not have any fortune but founded their greatness on noble values: braveness and honor. I'm pleased to see that you are of the same caliber. My only regret will be to have been unable to match up to you… Will you ever be able to forgive me for being such a mediocre father with you?  
- It needs… - answered Terry with a hesitating voice – It needs a lot of courage to tell me that, father. I don't know if I would have had the same. But in turn I can tell you this: I've always hoped to hear those words from you, and I cannot find the right words to express the joy it gives me…  
- Oh, son! – Murmured the Duke, painfully hiding his emotion.

The two men looked to each other silently during a long moment. Father and son were finally reuniting. The joy they were feeling discreetly expressed itself on their face but was well real. The shy smiles of the beginning were gradually replaced by a light gaiety that cheered them up definitively.

- We are arriving to Plymouth, your Grace – the chauffeur interrupted their discrete effusions.  
- Change of direction, Edward! Continue towards London and take the direction of Kenley as soon as possible!  
- But!... – said Terry who did not understand – Why Kenley?  
- Because… - answered the Duke with a mysterious look – Because… Have a little patience. I will explain to you when we arrive…

The Grandchester's car followed its road for two long hours during which the young man couldn't retain his impatience. Finally, as they arrived in the southern sector of London, the vehicle deviated from the main road and moved away from the capital. Quickly, the environment changed: the vast prairies and antique forests began to get alongside with shapely hills over tens of hectares. Then the path that peacefully followed the relief in a wavy line began to take, after few kilometers, a more linear aspect, longing fields that spread around on a long band of several hectares. At the very end, a raw of semi-military buildings closed the zone. A simple sign planted in the grass on the edge of the road displayed the site's name: Kenley, aerodrome.

The Rolls rolled few more meters then stopped in front of some hangars. Three airplanes were parked inside, above which a couple of men, dressed with their working clothes, were perched.

- Oh, your Grace! – Cried out on of the mechanics as he met the Duke. He reached out to him a dirty of oil sludge hand though he had previously wiped it off with a greasy cloth - It's a pleasure to see you here! We haven't seen you in a while!  
- That's right, Harvey. I missed it!  
- You should have informed us of your visit to give me time enough to prepare your plane. Alas, it's a bit too late to make it fly now. The night is coming soon.  
- Don't worry, Harvey. Could you thought have a look at it because I'd like to leave tomorrow morning, in the beginning of the day.  
- Consider it done, your Grace! I'll work on it all night long if necessary!  
- That's very kind of you! I knew I could count on you! Let me introduce you to my son, Terrence.  
- Pleased to meet you, sir – said Terry with an absent voice, as he mechanically shook the mechanics' hand. In spite of all his efforts, he couldn't understand what was happening around him. That unusual environment did not fit with his father's personality, and he spoke to him, solicitous of answers to his questionings - Could you finally explain to me what we are doing here?  
- We are in the aviation camp of Kenley!  
- I can see that, but what did that man mean about "your" plane? Do you finance that place?  
- I do, for a part of it… But I'm also the owner of a twin-engine plane which can carry up to four people.  
- But who pilots it?  
- Me!...

Terry stood frozen to the spot as if he had been struck by lightning. It was really the day of surprises, and he wondered for an instant if he wasn't involved into a hoax. But his father's tone sounded unequivocal in spite of the half-smile that lifted up his moustache. That latter, before his son's stupefied expression, invited him to follow him in another building that was taking place at the other end of the camp. Along the way, he gave him some explanations about his secret passion: aviation.

- You were too young to remember, but when I lived with your mother in America, I was involved in the Wright brothers' first flying tests, in Ohio. It was in 1900 in a glider. When, because of circumstances, I went back to England with you, I dropped all of this because it reminded me too much of the happiest years of life lost. But, as time elapsing, passion took over again, and I started to renew my attention to aeronautics. I became closer to Flying Fools fiels, those skilled pilots who had been at war and who had distinguished themselves through reconnaissance missions. I felt back in my element. I took again flying lessons and since then, from time to time, I come fly here.  
- How could I ignore all of this?- Lamented Terry.  
- Because you were yet living in America at that time, and we did not talk to each other anymore… - answered the Duke sadly - By now, I'm happy to be able to share my real passion with you. Business, politics were a necessary evil, but flying… Haaaa, Terrence! Flying is like feeling free, like feeling alive! It's a feeling indescribable so much it fulfills you with joy! During few hours, you change of universe, you don't think to anything, you are out of time. Can you understand this?  
- I do, father – answered Terry with a sibylline smile.

Theatre used to offer him the same freedom. He would feel that similar euphoria when being on stage. Father and son had much in common finally.  
They arrived in front of a building that displayed a big sign on which was awkwardly hand painted "OFFICE" en big letters. But as they were pushing the door, they almost bumped into a man on his way out.

- My God, Richard! What a good surprise! But what are you doing at this late hour? – Exclaimed the man with a strong French accent.  
- Lucien! Old rascal! I could ask you the same thing!  
- I've just transported some clients from Paris, and I fly back tomorrow with some "English" wishing to slum in Pigalle. What about you?  
- I'm taking my son to Italy, to Venice – he said as he introduced Terry to him whose hand he manly shook.  
- My goodness! Venice! That's one hell of a ride!  
- I'm very hopeful that we'll get there before the end of the afternoon.  
- Well, with the mild weather we are having those days, that sound feasible – said the "Frenchy", thoughtful – Do you have at least a road map?  
- Not yet unfortunately. That trip is a bit rushed. This is why I came to the office. But since you are here!...  
- …We are going to work on it together, aren't we? Hahaha! I've by the way brought back with me some topographic maps that could be helpful.  
- Lucien, you couldn't come at a better time!  
- Then, let's go inside and think about all of this! – He said, hugging his friend by his shoulder – The secretary has made before leaving that hay with boiled water that you "English" fancy so much.  
- Tea, Lucien, tea! – Answered Richard Grandchester, vaguely irritated.  
- Yes, yes, tea, as you like! But this will never replace a strong and full-bodied coffee!  
- If your Napoleon had drunk more of this, you would not have been beaten in Trafalgar!...  
- Roooooooh, what a sneak attack! I recognize well the British perfidy, rotten pudding eater!  
- Hohoho! You dare criticize the English haute cuisine? Some lost their head for less than that! – Cried out the Duke as he raised a threatening index under the pilot's noise. That latter retorted with an insolent sneer.  
- We, French people, are very gifted at making heads fall! We are experts in that matter, especially when it comes to aristocratic heads like yours!...  
- This is the reason why England remained a civilized country!  
- Oh, Richard, that time, you're going over the top!...

Blabla, blabla, blablabla…

Idly, incapable of the slightest reaction, Terry let the two men entering the building, joking like barracks old pals. There was no doubt. He did not recognize his father! That latter might have had a brain attack he had not been aware of, otherwise, he was suffering an incurable illness that had transformed him completely. What was that jovial being who was joking with an unknown, furthermore a Froggy? What had happened to the austere Duke of Grandchester, who just this morning paralyzed him with his coldness and his freezing gaze. The world was upside down! Definitely, he did not know anything about his father, but what he was discovering was not leaving him indifferent, rather the reverse. Finally, that man was becoming pleasant…

The following morning, a two-engines plane took off over the English country. The pilot, whose silvering hair locks could be guessed under his leathered cap, feverishly held the handle that he would guide towards the chain of the Alps, last frontier before Italy. Behind him, the turquoise eyes of a brown-haired young man glittered with thousands of stars. Amazed by the extraordinary panorama that stretched under his feet, his heart full of hope, he did not feel the fear of the one who was celebrating his first flight. The only thing that mattered was the charming face of a fair-haired woman that seemed to appear among the rounded clouds they were passing through. The limpid blue sky reflected itself on the plane's metallic keelson, so well that it was becoming invisible, like engulfed in the waters of a lake. Terry's heart began to beat faster as they saw in the distance the first outlines of snow-capped mountains. They were half-way now, a few hours of her. Nothing could oppose their reencounters. He was convinced. Tonight, he would be embracing her!...  
The airplane followed his road, narrowly missing the snow-covered slopes of the Alpine mounts, ignoring that the strong hope that lightened their travel was quickly going to take the taste of disenchantment…

End of chapter 5  
Thanks for reading until here.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

When Patty woke up, it was already full daytime in the bedroom of the Verona military hospital. Candy, sitting next to her, stood up straight and with a slam, closed the book she was reading.

Candy? ... – Patty did, holding out a weak hand to her.

I'm right here, my friend – she answered, taking her hand – Stay quiet. Every thing is all right now. Rest. This is the only thing you're allowed to do…

What… What happened to me? I… I remember that horrible pain in my belly during the night, then that strange impression to hear an ambulance siren. But it's hard for me to remind what happened next…

Ah Patty! You can say that you really scared me! – Candy did, nervously chuckling – You had a lightning appendicitis crisis that needed an emergency surgery. We were obliged to stop the train in Verona as it was the closest city with a hospital. You got surgery last night. Thereafter, the surgeon told me that if we had waited longer, you could have died of peritonitis! You've been so lucky! A true miracle, so well that it's the tenth candle that I've been lighting at the hospital church!...

The priest must be very happy of this godsend – Patty made notice with a teasing tone. In spite of her weakness, she was recovering her impertinent funniness and this delighted Candy.

May be! I'm very inclined to buy whole crates of them by way of thanks! – The young blonde retorted, laughing. But, grimly, she added, with a trembling voice: You know, Patty, I've been so afraid, so afraid to lose you!... Every people I loved in my life have been taken from me, and I really thought, that it was once again happening to me. If you only knew how relieved I feel!

A burning tear went to heavily crash on her cheek, and Patty's eyes got wet in return. She took Candy's hand and strongly squeezed it. Overwhelmed with emotion, she struggled to control her trouble, and finally said:

Tsssss, tsssss! Nice try but you won't get rid of me so easily, my dear. I've seen others, and don't have false hopes: I'm not ready to let you down. I'm going to be so glued to you that you'll no longer bear me anymore!

You're very heartless with me! – Candy laughed while wiping a tear – But I'd like to give it a try.

Those melodramatic effusions did not last long, abbreviated by a brief knock at the door followed up by the irruption of a man dressed with a white coat that Candy recognized immediately. It was Alessandro Biazinni, the surgeon who had operated Patty.

Good morning, Ladies! - He greeted them with confidence.

In his thirties, that tall and slender dark-and-curly-haired man looked very different from what Candy remembered. That night, she was so worried about her friend's health that she had not noticed at all how much attractive he was. But now, having her mind clearer, she quickly gave her eyeglasses to Patty, who, after wearing them, couldn't do anything but note the obviousness. Troubled, she felt her cheeks getting red as her glasses were getting covered with mist. The surgeon was enjoying the little comedy that they were playing in front of him, but tried to look casual. He took a document hanging at the edge of the bed and asked, eyebrow arched, with an almost perfect English:

How do you feel today, miss O' Brien? I can see you don't have fever, which is a very good sign. Do you have any pain?

A little, but I can bear it – Patty mumbled, having more and more difficulties to hide her trouble. He had particularly one of the most charming Italian accents…

I'm going to prescribe you some more painkillers that you can take if you feel the need to. First of all, you must rest and mustn't try to stand up. You've been close to the worse last night, you must be careful then.

Don't worry, doctor – Patty replied, turning her head towards Candy – My friend here is the right person to take care of me!

I'm a nurse… - Candy pointed out with a smile before the medic's interrogative look.

Interesting, interesting… - the surgeon answered, putting back the temperature curve on the bed – American nurses are visibly more distinguished than I thought!...

Don't believe the appearances, doctor! – Candy cried out, laughing though admitting innerly that the haute-couture dress she was wearing, contrasted indisputably with the nature of her profession – I also wear very well the uniform, you know, and I've been honouring it for more than ten years yet.

I'm going to be the object to your intense scrutiny then? – He did, his eye just glittering with mischief.

You can be assured of that! I want the best for my dear Patricia!

In that case, you don't have to worry about anything. I will pay a very particular attention to your friend… - he said, giving one of the most eloquent look to his patient. She felt her cheeks burning as he approached her to control the drip that was hanging over beside her bed. He bowed his head towards her and told her, with the most solemn of tones:

Miss O'brien, you'll have to wait for that evening to eat. Until that time, you are allowed to drink, but in small slips. Your body must first eliminate the last effects of the anaesthesia.

Of course, doctor. I will closely follow your advice – she stumbled.

Great! If all my patients were as obedient as you are, my days would be much more restful!

Patty shrugged her shoulders, getting redder, and lowered her head to hide her emotion. An amused smile took form on the doctor's face who added, giving to the young ill lady the mercy killing:

I see that you're recovering some colours! This is very encouraging!

Patty turned immediately scarlet, vainly trying to sink into her bed to shy away from the mischievous look he was offering her. The medic emitted a stifled laugh and walked to the door. When arriving underneath the doorframe, he turned around a last time, shooting her a very seductive smile that completely took her aback.

Your company is very pleasant, ladies, but I'm obliged to leave you. Many patients are waiting for me and unfortunately, they are less charming than you are. I will go back at the end of my service to check if you are fine. Until then, let me wish you both a good day!

With that, he greeted them both and disappeared. Dumbfounded, Patty and Candy did not exchange any word for a few seconds. That latter finally took the initiative to break the silence and bowed to her friend who began to chuckle when discovering her flickering look.

- I know what you are going to tell me and I do agree with you. He is i-rre-sis-ti-ble!

Leaning on the vaporetto gate that was sailing back up the Grand Canal of Venice, Terry, his hair brushed by the sea air, was staying thoughtful. The baroque facades of the Doges City were still shining with the ochre light of that late summer evening. He was benefiting from few hours before the night falls and this comforted him. He was having time enough before him to find his way in the narrow and dark alleys of the town. He unfolded the piece of paper on which his father had written the address he was supposed to go: Contarini Fasan Palace, Minotto street.

- The Count Contarini has been a long time friend. He will be very pleased to welcome you – he had told him, as he penned the address on the piece of paper – You will be very comfortable in the search of "you-know-who". But I hope that the first thing you'll do after finding her, will be to come and introduce her to me…

- Fear not, Father! – Terry had replied, taking with a moved hand the note he was holding out to him – I would be very honoured and you will be my first stop before we return to New-York.

The Duke had nodded with a smile of satisfaction. Across his eyes squinting with joy, he observed his son who was showing a face that expressed both anguish and excitation. They had just landed few minutes ago on the wasteland that served as makeshift airport to the city of Venice. Like most towns of that time, it only had a simple field away from the agglomeration to welcome, in those times of aviation still in its infancy, the rare airplanes that used to come and land there. Of course, there was not a real transit transport to come back to town, and the young man had been very fortunate that one of mechanics of the site, about to go back home, offered him to carry him to the city entrance.

In few hours, he would find back the woman he loved and that perspective had brought his father to almost thirty years back, in a time in which he also was crazy in love with an amazing young woman, to whom he had stupidly renounced by excess of pride and concern for classic conventions. At that time, he did not know that he would suffer all along his life from the gaping wound that this break-up would leave, that this secret injury he had to shut would change the enthusiast and freedom-loving being he used to be, into a dark and embittered man, cruel and ruthless. His son's happiness was taking him back to his own failures because, if he had been braver, he would have been able to know that feeling of ecstasy. But all of this now was a part of a past that was gone. A chapter of his history was closing with the about-to-come promising future of his son, and a comforting warmth had invaded his wounded heart.

Terrence had offered him to accompany him but he had refused under the false pretext that his plane needed a good checking before leaving the following morning. In reality, he did not want, with his presence, to disturb a little more the condition of excitement in which his son was. It was up to him to take his destiny into his own hands. He had proved to him since many years that he was able to do it, but he could observe, by his own experience, but also by watching him, that loving too much a woman could make you as weak as a little child. This is why he did not want to perturb him in his quest. He wanted to leave him the choice of his decisions and actions. Terry was a man now. He had acquired an experience of life much more mature than his, that he had maintained under the golden panelling of a Ministry. Instead of giving him lessons, he was having everything to learn from him, and though he regretted that paradoxical situation, he felt some pride before his nobility of soul and his bravery that honoured the name of Grandchester. He had always sighed before the mediocrity of his legitimate progeny: a lazy and incompetent son, and a daughter whose silliness was equal to the few charm the nature had granted her. Terry raised the level in all kind of ways, and once again, the bite of remorse went to shot into his heart. He hoped that with time elapsing, his son would forgive him his attitude towards him, even if he knew that he would not be able to forgive to himself everything he had me him suffer. He had hurt him too much, conscientiously. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to go back but now, as their relationship was cleaning up and changing, he was determined to make in his turn his son proud of his father. The task would be difficult but he was very decided to make everything possible to repair his mistakes of the past, by not beginning to interfere in his private life.

At the time of separation, they had pressed each other in a modest embrace but imbued with a tender affection that had left them both mute of emotion. Then, Terry had thrown himself into the mechanic's Fiat 509 which had started with backfires, lifting up in its wake a thick cloud of dust that quickly hid the car from Richard Grandchester's view, whose gaze was lost to the horizon, his heart filled with hope.

On the ground, Terry did not have any difficulties to find his way. In spite of his rudimentary Italian, he was able, thanks to the address on the paper and many gestures, to get the direction to the count Contarini's palace, a narrow two-floors building of flamboyant gothic-style, built in the middle of the fifteenth century, along the Grand Canal, just in front of the famous basilica of the Madonna della Salute. As he knocked at the door, he raised his head to admire the splendid marble balconies with pierced wheels motifs that gave a very special identity to the edifice. A few moments later, the door opened and an austere head appeared in the doorstep.

- Sir?

- My name is Terrence Grandchester – Terry introduced himself with a nod – My father, the Duke of Grandchester, is sending me to pay my respects to Count Contarini. Could you please inform him about my presence?

The domestic remain silent for a while, observing the young English man from head to toe.

- One moment, please… - he let finally slip, indifferent to his interlocutor's obvious eagerness. Then he closed the door on the stupefied young man's nose. That latter was about to leave when the door opened again, this time widely.

- Lord Grandchester, please do come in. The count is waiting for you.

Terry entered the hall that he found very dark and overloaded with hunt trophies. On the side, an ebony wooden stairs was leading to the upper floors. The man that seemed to be the butler, invited him to climb the steps to the first floor. On the landing, two doors were facing each other. The butler knocked at the one on the right. A voice answered, half-muffled by the partition wall that separated them. The servant opened the door and with the hand, offered Terry to come in. It was a medium-sized square bedroom, bathed with the sunlight that was gloriously crossing the ogive-shaped windows. Lightly away in the shadow, an old man, with white and curled mid-hair, dressed with a dressing gown, was sitting in front of one of the windows, and was observing with a telescope the comings and goings of the boats and gondolas on the canal.

- You're surprising me in full entertainment, lord Grandchester – he said, without leaving his observation post – The Canal traffic is a real Commedia dell' arte. This is a source of great amusement for me. You should see those gondoliers insulting each other after having failed to enter into collision – he followed, his stunted body shaking with laughs.

Finally, he pushed away his telescope, left his seat and came closer to Terrence, who was standing up, without moving.

- How strange! ... – He said as he placed his wrinkled face very close to the young man's – You're a subtle mixture of your father and mother…

- You knew her? – Terry retorted instantaneously, though regretting immediately his audacity.

- I did, young man, and I can even tell you that I was also in the running to seduce the divine creature she was. But the British charm revealed itself more persuasive… or luckier. I would rather opt for the second hypothesis.

Terry retained a doubtful frown before the old man's boast, whose allure evoked more The Miser, by Molière than Rodrigue, by Corneille. The glittering with mischief eye he was reflecting to him was not able to question the charming being he might have been in his youth. He glanced around for that face he could recognize on portraits hanging on the walls, and stopped, surprised, on a black marble bust that was seating in the bottom of the room, on a chest of drawers, between two stuffed pheasants.

- Shakespeare? – He asked while moving towards the sculpture.

- Well, himself. Another damn English! – The count answered, chuckling of laughs – Are you fond of his plays, my young friend?

- In reality… - Terry did, with a shy smile on his lips - I'm a theatre actor in Broadway, and Shakespeare's works occupy a significant place in my register, just as in my life…

- How funny! – The old man cried out, eyes wide-opened with surprise – Do you know that that house inspired Shakespeare for his play, Othello? Desdemona is supposed to have lived here before being killed by her jealous husband…

- Really?

- This is what the legend says, and there is always a little of truth in a legend, isn't it?

- This does not leave me indifferent, you're right – Terry answered, smiling – This is a great privilege for me to be in those history-loaded walls.

- Believe me, too much history have some disadvantages, such as… such as some undesirable ancestors who come and bother us during the night… - he whispered like if he did not want to be heard.

- Are you talking about g… ghosts? – Terry asked, a thrill of fear running down his spine.

- I am, my young friend! Oh, please, don't look so baffled! The witty England is not the only country that has spirits! – The count replied, sniggering.

Ignoring the pun that wanted to be humoristic, Terry replied:

- To be honest, I would have preferred you don't have any. I still have some bad memories of my nights passed in the family manor in Scotland, in which chains and steps noises used to trouble my sleep.

- Oh, Don't be worry! Here, you won't have any noise. They rather tend to pull your blanket off and to tickle your feet!...

- I beg your pardon? – Terry whimpered, looking visibly terrorised.

- Ahahaha! I was joking! – The count cried out as he gave a frank hit to his guest's back whose face had lost all colour – You're not going to tell me that at your age, you still believe in ghosts!

- I don't, of course!... – Terry stammered, embarrassed to look so ridiculous.

- Rest assured, the only things that will wake you up will be the churches bells that surround us, and in Venice, there is no shortage! It's quite an animated concert!

Recovering his colours, Terry remained nevertheless sceptical as persisted on his interlocutor's lips, an ironic smile that did not encourage him to trust. That latter walked then to the chimney that faced the windows, on which was a very substantial in size mirror. He pulled the strap that stood next to it to call a servant.

- I imagine that after that long journey, you'd like to have some rest… My maid will lead you to your bedroom in which you'll be able to groom and change yourself. I've always some spare clothes for my guests. Be sure to use everything freely. The meal will be served in an hour in the dinning-room downstairs. Will I have the pleasure to have you at my table, lord Grandchester?

- Of course, count Contarini. I sincerely thank you for the hospitality you're giving me. This is very kind of you.

- Believe me, my friend, this is not the quality that characterizes me the most – the old man answered with a mysterious tone as he escorted Terry to the door – At my age, few are the chosen ones who can come to my home. You should rather thank your father! If you were not his son, my butler was given the order to throw you to the water!

Once again, Terry wondered if the old man, in spite of the seriousness he displayed, was not playing with his nerves. But he did not have the time to react, as the servant bursted in the same time. He rushed to follow him to run away from the strange and anguishing householder. Definitely, his father was having strange relationship! That statement did not reassure him at all, especially when, as he entered his bedroom, an enormous elk head welcomed him – a trophy from a probable hunt in the Nordic countries. Hanging over the bed, it was staring at him with his lifeless gaze. One thing was sure: ghosts would never venture to come here. However, this would not dispense him from the nightmares he was certain to have in that lunatic asylum!

The day had elapsed very quietly. Patty had fallen asleep again and Candy had plunged back into the reading of her book. Quite simply, she was a little bored. This was the only book in English available, and it was not the most exciting. She yawned, stretched on her seat, then took back the book between her hands, tapping its cover with a distracted look. But the sudden burst of a nurse in the bedroom put an end to her boring.

- Miss Andrey, would you mind to come with me at the reception desk? We have a little problem…

- Is it serious? – Candy asked as they were walking along the corridor that led to the hospital entry.

- It is not, don't worry. It's just a little bit, well… bulky!...

When arriving at the reception desk, Candy understood without any difficulty the nurse's insinuation: a mountain of suitcases was blocking the path, so well that the staff and the visitors were obliged to zigzag to circulate. _The strict minimum for two ladies_…

The young American outlined an embarrassed smile before the grotesque of the situation.

- They've just been delivered from the railways station and I've been well specified that they were yours – the nurse did with a hint of mockery in her voice.

- _Believe me_ – Candy thought – _If the decision had been mine, there would be far less of them, and I would not be standing there, ridiculous, in front of that amount of cases while I ignore what most of them contain…_

For an instant weak, she regretted to have let Annie handle her luggage. That latter had explained to her that a young woman of her standing had to travel with such a load in order to preserve the family prestige. She had to have a different dress each day, even if that meant to change herself several times depending on the event of the day.

- You understand, Candy – she had told her as she sighed before the extravagance of her equipment – You are the Andrey's heir. You'll represent the family on the boat and in the foreign countries. Dressed like a poor girl, people could think that we have financial issues. They could ask questions, rumours would circulate, and it would damage the company. Every thing is linked!

- I can't believe that a simple piece of cloth can have such influence over the securities of a corporation… - Candy had answered, perplex.

- Unfortunately, this is the way it works. Knowing your nature, I guess how much you can find this futile and ridiculous, but there are codes to follow, and disobey them can cause much more damages than you imagine. A simple deviation, and we can lose all respectability, all consideration. This can ruin our reputation!

- Gosh! This is scary!... In what strange world do we live in?... Well!... I will literally apply those codes and I will do my best to honour the Andrey's name. I wouldn't like Albert comes to regret my adoption…

- Don't be silly! – She sneered – He knows what matters the most in life, but the society in which we are evolving sets the bar above all those essential concerns. Of course, we are not obliged to agree with them, but if, by adapting ourselves to them, we can by our presence and our actions get the mentalities improved, the both poor orphans we used to be will be very proud of what they've done.

- Well, this is a convincing point of view. But… Are you really sure that I've to take so many of them? – Candy did, as she pointed her the multitude of clothes displaying on the bed.

Annie's categorical and firm Yes had closed the talking and Candy had stopped insisting. But now, before the staff's ironical smiles, she was cursing her friend and her excessive enthusiasm.

- What am I going to do with all these cases? – She whimpered – They will never fit Patty's bedroom!

- Listen – The nurse did, filled with pity before Candy's contrite expression – I can offer you to make a selection of things that you'll put in one or two suitcases, and I will make carry the rest to the basement where we store our material. You'll take it back when you leave.

- Really? You're saving my life! I sincerely appreciate your help, miss! Miss… ?

- Emma! My name is Emma – the nurse answered with a pretty Italian accent, shaking frankly the hand that Candy was holding out to her – Pleased to help you!

- I hope I will have the opportunity to do the same to you in return. Do not hesitate to ask me if necessary. If it is in my abilities, I will be delighted to do it.

- Don't worry for this, miss. I do not expect anything in return. This is natural to help people.

Candy granted her with a warmth smile then leaned over her luggage in order to choose the ones she wanted to keep. She put apart a case for Patty that contained her grooming items, some nightgowns and few dresses, and repeated the same thing for her own person. The housing issue questioned her suddenly. Indeed, where was she going to stay during Patty's recovery? She did not want something too far from the hospital. She wanted to be able to stay with her friend as late as possible without fearing to come back to her hotel at night. She did not know if there was one in the area and turned to Emma to ask her the question.

- A hotel around here? No. But there is a little boarding house at the foot of the street. "At Roberta's". It's modest but very well held. Unfortunately, I don't think it will meet your expectations.

- Think again. This will be fine. I'm going to have a look at it right away. Please, if my friend wakes up before I come back, could you tell her the reason of my absence? I wouldn't like her to worry.

- Don't worry. Take your time. If necessary, I'll save a meal tray that you'll eat with your friend when you return.

Candy thanked her with a smile and left, stepping sprightly, for the boarding house. Reaching the street, she was surprised by the air mildness that contrasted with the stifling heat of the hospital. A line of plane-trees was protecting with its kind shadow her exploration of the place. The weather was fine, the sun was slowly losing height but was still far from ceding before darkness. She crossed a little boy in short trousers who was running and laughing after his dog, and she thought with nostalgia about her little residents of Pony's home. It was good for her to walk and to take some fresh air. Staying inside for hours really annoyed her, but it was better than lying in a bed like Patty. Those were not the idyllic holidays she expected to, but it would be a very good topic of conversation when she comes back to America.

_In America…_ So many things to tell to Terry! She was so eager yet, though her journey in Europe was just beginning. In spite of the exoticism of the place, she knew she would find the time passes very slowly and she immediately blamed herself for her lack of gratitude towards Albert and her friends who had organised this trip.

_Albert…_

_Albert!_

Albert who did not know about her misadventure and who might be very worry! How could she have forgotten to inform him? Obviously, the emotions of those last days had made her lose all reason and she had to come to herself before losing it completely! The seven ringing bells of a surrounding church interrupted her in her thoughts and increased her dismay. It was vain at that time to search a post office that would certainly be closed. Upset, she decided to go there the following morning in the first hour and to send, as fast as possible, a reassuring telegram to her benefactor. Lost in her thinking, she did not notice, at first, the sign of Roberta's boarding house, solidly fixed to the wall of the small building that sheltered it. A notice below on which were written the words "english spoken" reassured her completely. Actually, it was not difficult to travel abroad: they all speak English!

She shook the little bell next to the doorway. It opened few seconds later over a buxom woman, dressed with an apron, her hair tied under a black and white scarf.

- Miss?

- Good afternoon, madam. Roberta, I presume? – Candy asked, nodding at her interlocutor.

- I am. May I help you?

- Let me begin by introducing myself. My name is Candy White Andrey and I'm looking for a bedroom for a few days. A nurse from the hospital told me that you might houses me.

- You're very lucky because normally in summer, with all those tourists, we are full. But a couple of Americans has just left this afternoon, and I can rent you their bedroom if you want.

- This is perfect, madam, and thank you. I'm going to tell my friend who is sick and must stay in bed at the hospital. I'll come back in the evening if you don't mind.

- Come back when you want, miss. The door is always opened. Since then, your room will be cleaned. It's number six. The key will be on the piece of furniture in the entrance corridor.

Candy thanked once again the hotelier and turned back. She found back Patty awake, her cheeks pink with contentment.

- My God, you look extremely happy to see me again!

- Don't take this the wrong way – Patty chuckled as she pointed with her head the bedside, on which was put a little vase with a red rose inside – but you're not the reason of my good mood…

- It smells very good! – Candy cried out as she plunged her nose in the flower – Who has given it to you?

- Alessandro!...

- Alessandro? Alessandro Biazinni, the doctor?

- Himself! – Patty answered, with an excited nod – He offered it to me earlier, during his evening visit.

- Damn! He's not wasting time!...

- Oh Candy! Don't be so suspicious! This is just a flower, come on… There is nothing wrong with that.

- This is still a red rose!...

- Perhaps the florist did not have any other colour to offer? Come on, Candy, don't you think it is a delicate attention?

- I do! But he is also Italian, and you know their reputation: charming, seducing… I wouldn't like that Casanova plays with your fragile little heart…

- Don't worry. I think you're assuming too much about the Italians' reputation. Doctor Biazinni acted as true gentleman with me.

- This is what I really fear… - Candy thought innerly though deciding to shut her interrogations. It had been a long time since she had not seen her friend so cheerful. This is why she did not want to ruin that new happiness. Nevertheless, she promised to herself to watch carefully the handsome Italian and discover his true intentions.

- He told me that I'm recovering quickly and at this rate, I could leave the hospital in a few days – Patty continued with a cheerful sigh.

- That's really a good news! I'm looking forward to you leaving that place, my dear Patty. There are so many pretty things to see around here.

- You know, Candy, I don't want you to stay here because of me. You must go out and visit the city.

- Come on, Patty, there is no way I leave you alone here! You'll get bored to death!

- This is the reason why I want you to take profit of your freedom for the both of us. Listen, you could meet me at lunchtime and tell me what you've seen. I would travel through you.

- I'm not sure…

- Come on, Candy! Don't be so stubborn! You'll be my eyes and my ears. You'll make me dream so much that it will even give me more incentive to get better and see with you all those wonders!

- Ok!... – she finally said with a sigh of resignation – But in any doubt, well' go back to where we started!

- If you want, but trust me, I'm sure this is the best thing to do.

- I'll bring you back some specialties!

- Candy! You're really just a stomach! – Patty cried out, laughing – But well, I don't say no because I fear that, like in most hospitals, the food here may not be very good.

- This is something we're going to check right away! – Candy replied as the nursed came in, pushing the trolley that carried two meal trays.

- The timing is good! I'm dying of hunger!

The two friends feasted on pastas and hot minestrone soup. More specifically, Candy was the most voracious. Patty, thought very motivated at the beginning, had to quickly renounce to her meal. Her stomach remained still weakened by the surgery and the drugs she had to take, she was dizzy at slightest effort. She let herself go deeper in the hollow of her pillow and murmured, with a tired voice:

- I think that I'm going to join very soon the arms of Morpheus… This is very tiring to stay in bed all day long…

Candy smiled with amusement as she noticed her friend had lost none of her irony. This was what she liked the most about Patty: her discrete appearance caused by her inbred timidity that artfully hid a personality full of humour and malice.

- I'm going to let you rest then… - she said as she pated her lips with a napkin – You'll be in better shape tomorrow. I'll take profit of the morning to search something for you that will prevent you from getting bored and that will get you busy during your long days.

- You're so kind to think about me, poor being that the illness has confined to the bed…

- You don't have to overdo it! - Candy laughed – In a few days, you'll be dancing at the handsome Alessandro's arms. He is the one who said it!

- I don't remember him evoking that eventuality – Patty said, getting red, her eyes glittering with emotion – but this could encourage me to recover even more quickly…

- For now, think about having some rest – Candy answered as she kissed her friend's forehead – Tomorrow is another day… Sweet dreams!...

Patty nodded with a smile and closed her eyes slowly. Quickly, her breath took a regular rhythm and Candy thought she could leave her sleeping quietly with angels. She took her handbag and the suitcase she had put aside, and left the hospital. Fortunately, the street that led to the boarding house sloped gently down which eased the carrying of her heavy baggage. Her bedroom was on the first floor and this was with a big sigh of relief that she let her drop on the bed. She took off her leather shoes with the back of her feet and stayed laid down for a while by staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, someone knocked at the door. It was her landlady, Roberta, who was carrying a big pitcher of hot water.

- I thought you'd like a good hot bath, miss.

Candy tanked her for that pleasant initiative and warmly invited her to come in. The landlady went through the room and poured the pitcher in the bathtub that was at the bottom of the bedroom, close to the window. A screen would protect her from indiscrete eyes and would give some intimacy to the grooming corner. After three round-trips, the bath was ready and Candy lost no time in plunging into it. She moaned with satisfaction as she felt the soft contact of the warm water on her tired body. She let her head fall backwards on the edge of the bathtub and closed her eyes. She savoured the moment, a smile of satisfaction on the corner of her lips. She played for a long time with the bath salts, passing and passing again the soapy sponge on her skin, flapping the water with her feet to relax. But the temperature of the water slowly decreased and the young woman had to resign herself to leaving this little corner of paradise. She quickly dried herself, then coated herself with a perfumed oil she had found on the bathroom desk. That smelled good lilac, one of her favourite flowers, which made her even happier. She wore her nightdress and laid down flat on the bed. Her head on the side in the hollow of her arms, her gaze rested on her handbag next to her, half-opened, at the bottom of the bed. Terry's letter was almost out of it, and she took it with a languid hand. The fine and delicate handwriting of the young man was dancing before her moved eyes, and the words she had so often repeated in her mind since she had read them for the first time, were taking flesh, murmuring to her ear all the tenderness they evoked.

_I haven't changed…_

The soft and warm voice of the young man was infiltrating all her being, and for a moment, it seemed to her that she was able to feel him against her, that she was able to touch him. Those strange sensations were taking possession of her and consuming her from the inside, delightfully titillating her belly, increasing the rhythm of her breath, wrapping her with a delicious warmth that was taking her towards a territory that was not unknown to her but she had never dared penetrate. All shaking, she sat up straight, short-winded and cheeks on fire. She hurriedly closed the letter and placed it back in the handbag. Then, several seconds later, realising the strangeness of her behaviour, she let blurt a nervous laugh she covered up with her hand. All along those years, she had restrained her more secret desires and now, as she was free to fully live them, she was feeling guilty like a little girl caught in the act of silliness. Her female body was slowly waking up from a long sleep she had imposed to herself. She realised that if Terry was able to make her live such remote intense emotions, what would happen when they would meet for real?

In search for some fresh air, she went to the window and opened wide it. A light breeze came and caressed her pretty face and disrupted her golden locks. She looked up and saw the guiding star that glittered intensively in the sky. The love star was one of the first that shined after dusk, and remained, even during the starriest nights, one of the more shining aster that people could easily distinguish among the thousand stars surrounding. In a few hours, Terry would have too the opportunity to admire it from his Horacio Street's balcony… She did not know yet that a hundred kilometres away, the young man was also leaning on a balcony over the canal of Venice and was contemplating the same sky wearing its nocturne colours, with a special thought for her, promising himself that the following morning would be the last one they would live far apart.

End of chapter 6


End file.
